The Archmage of Arda
by Archmage.Potter
Summary: With basilisk venom and phoenix tears within him, Harry's body, spirit and magic is transformed and his lifespan is greatly increased. So, when given the chance to go to another universe where he would be able to grow in peace with other immortals around him, Harry accepts it, and finds himself near Rivendell at the start of the Third Age of Arda.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Harry slowly opened his eyes. The brightness was painful and he clenched his eyes shut again. "Where am I?" he asked in confusion. His memories were very hazy. He could remember the Hat yelling Gryffindor. No, no, that was ages ago. He recalled the troll and the little dragon. All of that was very distant. He remembered the spiders. Yes, yes, the spiders. It must be the spiders. But he was quite certain he had escaped the spiders as well. Wasn't there a flying car involved?

"Please do not be alarmed. The feeling of disorientation is quite normal and will soon pass. "

Harry opened his eyes again and frowned. He wasn't in the Hogwarts medical wing. In fact, as far as he could tell he was in a very dark place. There was a very tall and thin man with grey hair next to him. He wore a muggle suit and carried a wooden cane.

"I know you," said Harry suddenly. "You are –" He frowned, struggling to recall his name. "I don't remember."

"I am familiar to all and yet few are able to recognise me, dear Harry."

Harry – that was it!

"Yes, yes, that's my name," he said. "Harry… something."

"Indeed."

"Odd," he muttered. "For some reason, the name Freak sounds very familiar as well. Do I have other names?"

"Please, Mr Potter, take a few deep breaths and focus on your breathing," said the tall man. "You were bitten by a basilisk."

"Oh!" Harry suddenly had a flash of an enormous serpent charging towards him. "The serpent in the chamber. Is Ginny okay?"

"She will live," said the man. "As I said, Mr Potter, you were bitten by a basilisk while fighting the memory of Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Yes, yes, Tom… Voldemort," said Harry, as more memories came springing back. "What's going on? Where are we?"

"Right now, you are lying on the cold stone floor of the Chamber of Secrets," said the man. "Fawkes the phoenix has shed many tears on your wound."

"Death!" Harry suddenly cried out. "You are Death. We have met before."

The tall man looked at him in surprise. "Indeed," he said. "In another lifetime, in another universe, a meeting that is yet to occur but is already ancient."

Harry was confused. How could he have met Death? And what did he mean a meeting that is yet to occur but is already ancient?

"Am I dead?" he asked.

"No," said Death. "Your life as you knew it has ended but you aren't dead."

"Please speak clearly," Harry begged.

"When you were bitten, basilisk venom entered your bloodstream," said Death. "This is one of the most powerful substances in all of reality; representing the ultimate destruction and dissolution of reality. The serpent represents the nothingness from which reality comes into being and into which it will ultimately return, a cycle that repeats endlessly. This venom is potent enough to kill any entity conceived in all of reality save one."

"The phoenix!"

"Aye, the force of life and creation," said Death. "Until the time is at hand for the ultimate dissolution, the essence of the phoenix is stronger than the power of the serpent. Until such time, the venom in your blood will not be able to destroy you, and until such time, the essence of the phoenix will not dissipate from your body, perpetually keeping the destructive force of the venom at bay along with everything else it represents."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"In other words, Mr Potter, you have become immortal," said Death. "Or rather, let's say you have a highly enhanced lifespan, one that will outlast not only this universe but countless other universes, until such time the omniverse returns into the void, and there are very few beings in all of reality with the strength to kill you prior to the natural end to your lifespan."

Harry gasped in shock. "I don't want it. Take it away."

"I am afraid that is not within my power," said Death. "Just as an arrow once released can never be unreleased, you can never not be immortal in this cycle of reality."

"There is something else you aren't telling me," said Harry. "How else have the venom and the tears changed me?"

"Both the venom and the tears have now moved from your bloodstream to your organs, bones and even your magical core," said Death. "You now have the two most powerful substances in reality within you. As you can imagine, that has its own effects. Your blood is more potent than any wand; you will be able to do magic without any other tools. The venom will destroy your weaknesses and the tears will recreate it to a level of perfection. Your senses will be the first to improve – better and sharper than any other creature in this world. Your strength, stamina and speed will become as if permanently charmed by superhuman spells. Your skin will become resistant to blunt force and many ordinary magic spells, remaining the same in appearance but magically reinforced to be tougher than basilisk hide. You will have the fast healing ability of the phoenix. You will be able to travel by fire, although this ability will have to be learnt slowly. You will have the phoenix's ability to inspire others, which together with the serpent's ability to instil fear, will make you a great leader."

"That's it, then?" he said sarcastically, somewhat surprising himself by how easily he was taking this. Was that the serpent inside him that was manifesting? "What now? There must be a reason why Death is taking this much time to discuss these things with me."

Death looked at him indulgently. "Indeed, Mr Potter. A time will come when we will meet again and speak more about the nature of reality. We can leave this discussion until that day. For now, you have a choice. You can return to where you come from. But understand this, nothing will be the same again. You will not have the same life. Your friends will not understand these changes; you will not have the time and space to fully come to terms with who and what you are becoming."

"And the alternative?"

"The alternative is to go to a different world," said Death. "One where you can learn what it means to be immortal amongst others."

Harry hesitated. "I have no reason to go back there. My only surviving family despise me; my friends are young and will get over their loss in time, and in fact, they will have easier lives without the trouble that seems to follow me."

"You must make a decision," said Death. "And remember, once you learn to travel by fire, you can travel between universes. You can return to your home world in the future, once you have come to terms with your new lives. And you will not go alone." He waved his cane and something suddenly materialised out of thin air.

"The Sorting Hat!" Harry gasped.

"I have modified the enchantment on the Hat," said Death. "It now has access to all the material in the Hogwarts library and will now only be able to communicate with you mentally. There is no reason why your magical education should be stunted. Now, make your decision."

Harry nodded. "I have made my decision. I will go to this new world."

The moment he said that, everything around them turned hazy. Whatever was happening to him, one thing he could already feel – the essence of the basilisk and the phoenix was singing in his blood.

* * *

"By the stars," he swore when he saw the green coloured lightning from his window. "This is exactly how I dreamt it happen." He walked out of the chamber.

The household was silent. There had been a big feast that night to celebrate the birth of his sons, but now everyone was tired and asleep. Everyone except Elrond Half-Elven. His dreams had kept him awake, as he tried hard to make sense of them. Tarrying long enough to retrieve his sword and an appropriate cloak for riding, he walked out of the house. Within moments, he was riding on a swift white horse towards where the lightning had struck.

The dreams had started several weeks ago, and initially, he had dismissed them as stress-induced delusions rising from his wife's first pregnancy. But no amount of meditation could stop the dreams. Every night, it was always the same. Green lightning, morphing into a terrifying serpent, which encircled a round world – not in threatening manner but as a guardian and protector.

He didn't fully understand the dream, but he hoped this was a gift from the Valar, to show they hadn't fully abandoned middle-earth and those who lingered behind. He slowed down when he approached the site of the lightning. Many miles south of Rivendell along the Bruinen, he came across the crater where the green lightning had struck. Climbing down from his horse, he patted his horse's head a couple of times and said a few words in Sindarin to ensure he didn't wander off.

"Is anyone there?" he enquired before taking a few steps closer. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, ready to face any threat but, in his heart, he didn't expect to fight. To his surprise, he heard a sound. Someone was groaning. And a child, from the sound of the voice. Letting go of his caution, Elrond rushed to the crater and looked down.

A boy was lying on the ground. He was moving and slowly trying to get up. Elrond observed the human child for a few moments. He looked weak and wore something strange on his face over his eyes, but even as the child got up, he threw aside the thing on his face – half in confusion and half in delight. Strands of unkempt black hair emerged from the edges of the pointed black hat on his head.

"Hello," Elrond called out, and the boy turned to him in a flash. "Are you hurt? Do you need a hand?"

The boy stared at him for a few moments and then said something.

"I do not understand," said Elrond. "Do you speak Westron? The Common Speech?" He rather doubted a man child would speak any Elvish language, so didn't bother offering that.

The boy raised a finger to stop Elrond and closed his eyes. He seemed deep in thought for several seconds and then he opened his eyes with a cheerful smile. He then raised his hand and said something in that strange tongue of his.

For a second Elrond wondered if that was the boy's way of greeting Elrond, but then his eyes widened in surprise when a pale luminous light shone from his hand and then the light moved into his mouth and a couple of moments later escaped from his ears.

"Sorry about that," the boy said in perfect Sindarin. "The Hat taught me a temporary translation spell that lets us understand each other."

Elrond gaped at the boy in silence. What was this strange ability that he just witnessed? Was the boy a maia? He shook himself when he saw the boy was shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny. "I am Elrond, Lord of Rivendell," he said. "Who are you, child? And what brings you to these lands?"

The boy sighed and then he started speaking. "I don't know where to begin or how much to tell you or even if I should. For even as I think about what's happened to me in the last few hours, even I find it difficult to believe. Perhaps, I am still dreaming and all of this is in my head." Hastily, he added as if someone had just reminded him, "my lord."

Elrond smiled at him faintly. "Perhaps, a name would be a good place to begin."

"Of course, sorry," he said. "I am Harry Potter."

"Harry," muttered Elrond, stretching the a-vowel as in card. "I have never heard a name like that before. What kind of name is it?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. Then, he said in a clear voice filled with self-confidence. "It is a wizard's name."

Elrond raised an eyebrow, and as if to prove his claim, the boy raised his hand again and conjured a small sphere of light which floated up and illuminated the area where they were standing. "My eyes belie what my mind would like to believe," said Elrond, and once again he wondered if the boy was sent by the Valar to protect the free people of middle-earth.

"I think I have come from a different universe," said Harry. "He said I needed to learn how to live as an immortal and that's why I am here. I – I don't know what I am supposed to do though."

Elrond remained silent. Every word the boy said raised more questions in his mind. An immortal human child? A different universe? And if that was true, who was this mysterious person that had the power to send someone across universes? But despite all these questions, there was one thing he was beginning to feel very certain about. The boy had a pure heart, if Elrond had any skill in reading such things, and he would help the boy.

"I don't suppose…" he hesitated. "I don't suppose you could point me to the nearest village or town? I don't have any money but I suppose I could find some other way to pay for lodgings."

"Don't be absurd, child," said Elrond. "You will come to the house of Elrond Half-Elven, and however long and fantastic your tale is, we will hear it over breakfast tomorrow morning after we have had some sleep for what's left of the night."

"Thank you, sir," the boy looked at Elrond in pure surprise and gratitude, as if he hadn't expected such an offer.

* * *

Celebrian smiled when she saw the human child hold the little elfling. "Gently," she directed him. "One hand to support the head. See how I am holding Elladan."

Harry swallowed uneasily before shifting the position of the crying elfling. "Like this?"

"Perfect," she said. "Now, move him closer to your chest and sway him for a while. And thank you very much for your help, sweet child." The boy had been the first to rush into the elflings' nursery when they cried out in the morning. She still wasn't entirely sure who he was but the concern on his face for her babies and the clear desire to do something – anything – to help was enough to let her give him a chance.

"I see I am not needed here," Elrond remarked as he stepped into the nursery.

"I have a younger replacement for you now, my husband," Celebrian joked back and the boy blushed deeply making them both laugh in amusement.

"Harry, this is my wife Celebrian and my sons Elladan and Elrohir," said Elrond. "Dear, this is Harry Potter. He is the one from my dreams."

"The green lightning," Celebrian muttered and her eyes rose to the lightning-shaped scar on the boy's forehead.

"We haven't yet had a chance to discuss the full story, but I believe Harry has been sent here from a faraway land – perhaps even beyond Valinor – and he has been sent to us for a purpose."

Celebrian's eyes widened. "What purpose?"

"Harry," Elrond turned to him. "Yesterday, you mentioned something about being an immortal. Have you had a chance to think about how much you would like to share with us?"

Harry sighed. He raised his eyes from the peaceful baby in his arms and looked at the baby's parents. "Yes, sir. I am not sure if you will believe any of this, but this is the truth. I come from another universe where I was in a school of magic. Magic is wonderful but it is not without its fair share of danger. One of my friends was enchanted by a dark wizard using an object and was making her release a terrible monster – a serpent that can kill with a mere gaze – to attack the students. I managed to locate her when the dark object forced her into hiding – the dark wizard who was controlling her summoned the serpent to fight me. I managed to slay it but not before it bit me in the process. I should have died, but a phoenix shed tears on my wound. In our universe, the basilisk and the phoenix are the two most powerful forces representing the power of destruction and creation."

"I see," said Elrond. "And you have both within you, in perfect balance. Interesting."

"I woke up in a strange place," said Harry. "Or perhaps it was all in my head…" He was silent for a moment. "He said I could do wandless magic and had become immortal and other changes would also happen to me because of the venom and tears inside me. My eyesight has already improved and I can see and hear better than should be humanly possible. He said I could go back but no one would understand these changes and that I wouldn't be able to learn how to live as an immortal and suffer as I watched my loved ones grow old and die. He suggested I come to this universe instead."

"Whom do you speak of?" asked Celebrian.

Harry hesitated before saying, "Death."

Elrond and Celebrian exchanged glances but didn't say anything out loud.

"I accepted the alternative and then Lord Elrond came upon me," finished Harry, and then turned his attention back at the baby, which was now smiling peacefully in Harry's arms.

"In that case, you have been sent to the right place," said Elrond. "Elves are immortal beings; both Celebrian and I have lived for several thousands of years. "

Harry's eyes widened. "But – but you don't look that old."

Elrond smiled. "That is just how we are, child. Perhaps, you too will stop ageing after a certain point. But the big question now is this: will you stay here as my ward?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I –" He was stunned into silence.

"It is entirely your choice," said Elrond. "You are an intelligent and mature young man and it would give both me and Celebrian a lot of pleasure to have the opportunity to take part in your upbringing."

Celebrian nodded. "Please say yes. I could do with all the help I can get with these little monkeys."

"W-Why?" Harry managed to stammer. His voice was quivering and it was very clear that he was struggling with some deep emotions. "No one has ever wanted me before."

Celebrian gently placed Elladan on the crib and walked towards the stunned human boy. She knelt beside him and kissed his forehead. "Sometimes, you don't need a logical reason to do something. You just do what seems… right." She looked at her husband. "And at this moment, this seems right, my sweet boy."

Elrond walked to them and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Welcome to the House of Elrond Half-Elven, Harry. I suppose we should give you an elven name to mark the occasion." He was silent for a moment. "I name you Galen-Galad, the Green Light, for it was a green light from the sky that brought us together."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

As Harry settled into life in Rivendell, he discovered his body was indeed changing as Death had proclaimed. With every passing day, he could move a bit faster and lift a bit heavier. His stamina and endurance also improved remarkably and his skin toughened magically. Once, he stepped on a shard of broken glass, and to his great surprise, the glass simply broke into powder under his foot without piercing it at all.

"That's useful," muttered Harry, when one day he realised that ordinary swords and arrows also could no longer pierce his skin, although mithril blades still affected him. "Glorfindel is in for a surprise next sword training session."

The elves of Rivendell were quite taken by him, and not just because of the strange and wondrous things he could do with his magic. More than that, they loved the new songs and tales Harry brought from his home. And so, even if Lord Elrond hadn't instructed them, most elves would have been delighted to teach the human kid archery or sword-fighting or horse-riding or tracking or any other such useful skill that came as second nature to elves. And for his part, Harry was never shy of learning and was always grateful for the time and effort anyone took with him.

And yet, he always kept the earliest hours of the morning free for his magic lessons. Only Elrond and Celebrian knew the true nature of his Hat, and so the others thought Harry simply liked to spend mornings by himself, but in truth, he would wander out to an isolated spot and learn some new magic spells from the Hat.

Whatever Death had done to the Hat, it had become somewhat of an advisor to Harry, often chiming in with words of wisdom or a useful spell. But when it came to daily lessons, the Hat had refused to simply teach spells in random, and instead, they had decided to follow the Hogwarts curriculum and then, depending on the areas of magic in which Harry showed the most promise, carry on with more advanced stuff. The Hat had also insisted on recapping everything Harry had learnt in his first two years, and Harry realised that he hadn't actually mastered those old spells – at least not in a way that would satisfy the Hat.

"You call that an Incendio!" the Hat mocked when Harry sent out a stream of fire.

"I conjured fire, didn't I?" Harry argued back. "What more do you want?"

"Can you conjure a ring of fire? Can you conjure a ring of fire of the right size to surround any given target? Can you conjure a fire whip? Can you conjure fire balls to fling at an enemy? Can you conjure just a tiny spark to light a camp-fire? Can you incinerate an arrow fired at you fast enough to avoid being incinerated? Not until you can do all of that and much more, will you have truly mastered Incendio."

So began Harry's re-education in magic with a teacher who wouldn't settle for anything but perfection and had no other care but Harry's education. They relearnt every spell Harry had thought he already knew, including Lumos.

"Can you conjure light of a specific colour and intensity of your choice?"

"Who cares if you can turn a match into a needle? Can you turn a wooden twig into a fork or knife? Can you turn a wooden branch into a sword? Can you do the reverse, that is, transform a knife thrown at you into wood and incinerate it before it reaches you?"

"What's the point of a disarming spell that will summon a sword straight to impale your heart? Learn summoning and banishing charms instead. Once you master them as well as levitation and descent charms perfectly, you will be able to move objects around as if you have invisible hands doing it for you."

"No wizard is complete until he learns at least one basic and one advanced charm for each element."

"No wizard is worth his wand until he learns how to create, detect and destroy at least three different kinds of wards: concealment, defensive and offensive."

"Enough!" Harry grabbed the Hat and removed it from his head. He knew he would regret doing so the next time he put it back on. The Hat didn't take kindly to such rude interruptions in their lessons, but Harry was getting late for his meeting with Lord Elrond.

He moved swiftly through the hallway. Nearly two years had passed since he had first arrived in Middle-Earth, and during this time, Harry had spent a few hours every other day with Lord Elrond learning more about the history of this new world and the cultures of the various peoples who inhabited it. Perhaps it was another side-effect of the venom and tears, but he was able to pick up the various languages very swiftly and was no longer dependent on translation spells. He was surprised when he saw Glorfindel and Celebrian were also with Elrond. They appeared to be looking over a map.

"Come here, Galen-Galad," said Elrond, and Harry raised an eyebrow at the use of his elvish name. Elrond, unlike most of the other elves preferred to call him Harry, and only reserved the use of this other name for formal occasions. "Lady Celebrian will be undertaking a journey to Lothlorien together with our sons."

"I received word from my mother," said Celebrian, when Harry frowned at the news. "She would like to see her grandsons and also let them grow for a few years in the Golden Woods."

"With a heavy heart, I have agreed to this," said Elrond. "Orcs have been sighted not too far from Rivendell and we intend to storm their strongholds; Rivendell will be left defenceless while we are at battle, so it would be best if the elflings are taken south to Lothlorien. It would give me great peace of mind if you would escort Lady Celebrian in her journey."

"Lord Elrond," Harry argued. "I can aid you in fighting the orcs."

"I have no doubt you could be of great assistance in the battle," said Elrond. "However, I would rather have you use your magic to protect the twins. Please, Harry, I beg this of you."

Harry looked slightly flustered and inclined his head. "Of course, my lord. You do not ever have to beg anything from me. I will do everything in my power to keep the twins safe." Even as he said that, he couldn't shake off the feeling that Elrond was sending him south to keep him safe as well. Part of him, the Gryffindor lion roared against it, but the serpent could see the logic behind Elrond's actions. Despite his abilities, Harry was an untested warrior in the eyes of the elves. Moreover, the road south would not be without its own dangers and hardships and the best way to prove himself to Elrond was by diligently accomplishing the small things that he was asked to do.

"Glorfindel and five others will be part of your escort," finished Elrond. "You will take boats down the Bruinen, and then after a couple of days walk across the ruins of Eregion, you will take the pass through the kingdom of Khazad-Dum. The dwarves are our allies and have agreed to host the elvish company and provide an escort to the edges of Lothlorien."

* * *

"Can you sing another song, Harry?" asked Celebrian, as the boat made a sudden jerk and woke up the toddlers who immediately started crying. "The boys love the sound of your voice."

"I find that very surprising," said one of the elves named Lindir who himself was renowned for his musical talent. "I have heard many a man sing before and while they make good merriment, they are nowhere close to an elf in singing. And now the good Lady Celebrian would rather have a human child sing instead of the elves of her own halls. How is it possible that you are far superior not just to your own kind but also to the rest of the eldar?"

Harry grinned cheekily. "Magic, my good Lindir." The truth was when he first sang a song from his world at the request of the elves, he had felt a fire within him. A pure sacred flame that reminded him of Fawkes and the first note he uttered was laced with the peace and warmth of a phoenix song.

Lindir smiled in amusement. "I will not argue that there is something magical about your voice, child. By the grace of Elbereth, may we long get to spend our evenings listening to you sing."

Harry started singing an elvish song, and as Celebrian had expected, the boys stopped crying despite the choppy waters.

"The Lay of Leithian," Glorfindel remarked when Harry finished. He was the last person sharing their boat. "The tale of true love between a mortal man and an immortal elf. Could it be that some elven lass at Rivendell has taken young Galen-Galad's fancy?"

Harry laughed at the elf who had taught him how to wield a sword and a bow. "If that ever happens, you will be the first to know, Master Glorfindel. I promise you."

Lindir joined in the merriment. "However, I rather doubt you will face the same problems that Beren and Luthien faced, given your lifespan, young Harry."

Harry blushed slightly. "Can we talk about something else please?"

Celebrian took pity on the boy. "Have you finished the gift you were making for the king of the dwarves?"

Harry removed something from a sack. Under the tutelage of the Hat, he had started learning how to make magical artefacts with simple enchantments. It had started with his desire to create a flying broom. The Hat had refused outright, saying he had to learn how to walk before he attempted how to fly. If he desired to become an artificer, they would begin with simple enchantments before attempting something as intricate as a flying broom. The sack itself was one such artefact, enchanted to be bigger on the inside, feather-light in weight even if filled with stones, and when he stuck his hand inside and thought of an item within it, it would come to the top on its own. A very handy tool for a travelling wizard, according to the Hat, and Harry wholeheartedly agreed.

"For King Durin, the Fourth," Harry removed a pair of gauntlets. He had picked up a broken pair of gauntlets from the armoury and repaired it using magic. He had then enchanted it with two basic charms. As if to prove his point, he placed the gauntlet over Elladan's hands and the metal shrunk in size until it became a perfect fit for the baby. "It will shrink or grow in size to perfectly fit the hands of whosoever holds it. But that's not all. The ruby encrusted on it is enchanted with the Flame-Freezing Charm, which means the person wearing this will be immune to fire."

"Impressive," said Glorfindel. "How long will the magic last?"

"It is powered by runes as well as the magical core," said Harry. He had used a strand of his own hair and inserted it within the gauntlet before repairing it. "I do not know how long it will last. A few hundred years; maybe a few thousand if we're lucky. I really do not know."

Lindir tried on the gauntlets and observed it with interest. "The dwarves are a proud folk –" he began before he was interrupted.

"Even prouder than elves?" Harry feigned astonishment.

Lindir threw him a mock glare while the others laughed. "This might be very magical but it looks rather elvish in design and make. If your magic allows it, I would suggest making it look a bit less elvish."

The Hat agreed with the elf's suggestion, and that then became Harry's next task. The Hat sent him a mental image of the armour used by Godric Gryffindor. Harry started reshaping and redesigning the metal, changing its colour to golden with a deep red hammer striking anvil, representing the dwarves' incessant ability to rebuild, recreate and reforge despite their sufferings.

"Now, that looks like a gift worthy of a king," said Lindir approvingly.

"Tell me more about Eregion," said Harry. "Why did the elves abandon that realm?"

Glorfindel sighed. In a heavyset voice, he responded. "T'was an age ago, when Sauron the Deceiver under the guise of Annatar the Giver of Gifts befriended Celebrimbor, the last of the House of Feanor, and forged the rings of power. When the deception was discovered, Celebrimbor tried to stop the rings of power falling within the control of Sauron, but he could only save the three elven rings. In retaliation, Sauron attacked Eregion and destroyed the realm of elves. Some went east and found refuge in Lothlorien, while the rest of us followed Lord Elrond and founded Rivendell. Now, all that remains of that glorious realm are ruins and holly trees."

"Holly," Harry was surprised. "That wood is very conducive to magic. If you don't mind, can we stop to collect a few branches?"

"We will have ample time to do so, young Harry," said Glorfindel.

* * *

Harry bowed regardless of the rather stiff postures of the rest of the male elves next to him as they inclined their heads ever so slightly. He knew elves and dwarves had somewhat tricky relations and this alliance between the dwarves of Khazad-Dum and the elves of Lorien was forged out of having a common enemy rather than any real feelings of kinship. However, having walked through the great halls of stone, with mithril shining everywhere in glory, Harry was left in awe at the skill of the dwarves.

King Durin IV sat on a throne that was carved into the stone itself and its back extended for hundreds of feet above his head. Hundreds of dwarves were observing the visitors from various levels around the hall of the king. The king raised a hand and all whispers subsided at once. "Welcome, travellers, to the Halls of Durin."

Celebrian stepped forward. "We thank you for your kind hospitality, your majesty. It has been a long time since I last passed through your majestic hallways and it gives me great joy to see its splendour has increased even more."

The king laughed. "Indeed, my lady. My people work tirelessly day and night, for nothing gives us more pleasure than to find more mithril."

"I would urge caution, your majesty," said Glorfindel and immediately the dwarves became somewhat restless and a hostile air descended upon the king. "These caves are ancient, hallowed. Who knows what nameless creatures from an age long forgotten might still be slumbering in the depths of the stone."

"By what right do you seek to caution the House of Durin, Master Elf?" the king said scornfully. "My people have been mining here for thousands of years. If there was any creature slumbering in the mines, then we would have already encountered it."

"I apologise if I misspoke out of concern for our allies and their wellbeing," said Glorfindel, although his voice contained not even an ounce of humility or apology.

Celebrian cut in before the tension could get any worse. "Your majesty, please may I present Harry son of James, also known as Galen-Galad. He is our ward and has a gift he would like to present to the House of Durin. A very special gift which he has made with his own hands and the skills bestowed upon him."

"A gift," the king stroked his massive beard and observed the child with interest. "Come closer, gift bringer. Do not be shy."

Harry was not shy but he was conscious of all the dwarves staring at him. "Thank you," he said, and when the Hat prompted him, he quickly added, "your majesty." Some of the dwarves tittered in amusement. He presented the gauntlet to the king, who accepted it graciously.

"This is indeed fine craftsmanship," said the king. "It is clearly of elvish origin but has been remade in an outlandish fashion which is rather pleasing to the eye." He gasped in surprise. "Do my eyes betray me or did it just change in size?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, your majesty. These aren't ordinary gauntlets. I have enchanted it so it would fit the person holding it and also make the wearer immune to fire."

There was complete silence as the king put on the gauntlets and stood up. He walked to a lit torch and moved a hand through it quickly. Raising an eyebrow, he did so again, but a bit slower. With a grin on his face, he did it a third time and left his hand resting on the flames.

"I can feel a little heat but the fire does not affect me at all; not even the part of my hand that is not covered by the gauntlet," he announced. "Such a wondrous thing should have its own name. What do you name it, gift bringer?"

Harry hesitated. He hadn't thought of any name and shuffled through his memories for something appropriate. "Ravenclaw," he said finally, without any better suggestion in his mind.

"This is a kingly gift, Harry son of James. The House of Durin accepts it with utmost gratitude and assures you it will be treasured among the greatest of our heirlooms."

Harry turned a little red at the proclamation and the dwarves started cheering.

"Now, in return, all I can humbly offer you is mithril," said King Durin. "Enough mithril to fill that empty sack you carry."

Harry was about to explain that his sack was not empty; it was instead enchanted to be bigger on the inside and had the capacity of a large chamber while charmed to be feather light. But then he grinned mischievously. "Okay," he said, and handed the sack to the king, who grabbed a handful of mithril jewels and threw it in, and then more, and more, and finally, he started filling it with raw mithril ore lying about.

At one point, the king finally realised there was something enchanted about the sack. He stared inside the sack and then scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"It's not full yet, your majesty," Harry pointed out.

The king turned to Harry with a narrowed expression but then he chuckled. "Alas, outwitted by a child," he sighed. "But a king's word cannot be broken. You," he pointed at a nearby dwarf, "fill this sack with mithril for the gift bringer." He walked to Harry. "Come," the king said. "The feast is ready. You will sit beside me and we will talk until our bellies our full and we can drink no more ale."

"Your majesty," Celebrian added hastily. "I don't think Harry is old enough to drink ale."

"No?" the king stroked his beard and looked at Harry eagerly. "In that case, there will be honeyed mead, the kind dwarf children are sometimes allowed to drink. You think you can handle a bit of dwarvish mead, gift bringer?"

Harry sent a defiant look at Celebrian who sighed in resignation at the stubbornness of men and then nodded at the dwarf king. "Yes, your majesty."

In retrospect, that was a very bad idea. One drink had already made him lose all inhibitions, and after a second one, Harry was already jumping on the table and giving a live display of how he had once jumped on a troll and shoved a wooden stick up its nose.

Glorfindel face-palmed but the dwarves were loving it.

"You have a dwarvish spirit," said one of the dwarves who raised a hand to support Harry when he tripped and nearly fell.

"We called it Gryffindor spirit back home," said Harry with a slur as he returned to his seat as if nothing untoward had happened. "We Gryffindors are as brave as lions." He looked at the dwarf who had helped him. "Your beard looks like a lion's mane. Can you roar like a lion?"

"Can I roar like a lion, he asks," said the dwarf cheerfully, as he finished his ale in one go and let out a massive roar, and the dwarf next to him then followed suit. Before he knew it, dwarves were finishing their drinks and roaring like lions left, right and centre. Harry licked his lips and raised his glass to do the same and several of the elves groaned whilst trying not to smile at the foolhardy boy.

"Your majesty," Celebrian turned to the king. "If I may have your leave, I should retire for the night and look after my boys." She glanced at Harry, who was trying to roar as loud as he could. "Or at least those of my boys you haven't corrupted yet." Immediately, the other elves stood up as well. "Glorfindel, I know Harry will be safe with our gracious hosts, but it will ease my heart if you also stay with him. He may have one more mead but no more."

"Certainly, my lady," said Glorfindel, but it was obvious he was less than delighted to have to spend more time with the dwarves. "May I suggest not mentioning to Harry that his lembas bread can cure headaches tomorrow morning and let him suffer the consequences of this ill-advised alcoholism?"

Celebrian laughed. "If you think that will be a good lesson for the boy, who am I to argue?"

"Ha," the king intervened. "If the elves are so willing to abandon the gift bringer, then we dwarves will provide him with our own brew to recover in the morning. Granted, it won't work miracles but it shall ease his head somewhat."

"You mean the kind which has even more alcohol in it," Celebrian pointed out.

"Exactly," said the king before turning to one of the dwarves. "Pass the jug of ale, you greedy oaf!"

But to everyone's surprise, Harry was awake even before the elves and was already looking after the twins when Celebrian woke up. "How are you up so early?" she asked after leaning down to kiss the fifteen year old boy's forehead.

"You remember all the herbs and flowers and other stuff I was collecting through Eregion?" Harry asked. "The Hat was making me do it, and he taught me how to make a quick potion to cure hangovers after the tales of the dwarves and how they like to drink so much."

"Hangover?" Celebrian repeated in confusion.

"The headaches you get from alcohol," Harry clarified. "We call that a hangover in my old world. When I told the king about it, he wanted to see me make it and then we all took a small glass to our beds… except Glorfindel. I heard what he said to you and we didn't tell him what we were doing." He finished with a smirk.

Celebrian laughed. "I am glad you have made friends with King Durin and his people. Dwarves are not the easiest of people to befriend but once you have their friendship, you couldn't find anyone more loyal to you."

"Aye, my lady, that is well said," the voice of the king came followed by his own presence. He looked very fresh as well. "You have given us yet another gift, my young friend. The Lion's Roar, as we are calling it, will be a recipe that shall never be forgotten by my people, and long will we raise a glass to the one who shared it with us."

"You are most gracious, your majesty," said Harry.

"Not at all," said the king. "On your return journey, I insist you spend a few weeks with us. I will send my nephew Giri and a royal escort to take you back to Rivendell afterwards." To Celebrian, he explained, "Young Harry has a talent and a real interest in making things, and while we dwarves cannot match his magical abilities, we can certainly teach him how best to shape metal and stone using ordinary tools – how a gentle touch here and a subtle move there could achieve more than several blows by a hammer."

Harry's eyes lit up. The dwarves were a very fun bunch, and while he wasn't certain he could stay up with their lifestyle for more than a few weeks, those few weeks would be a very fun time. "Please, Lady Celebrian," he pleaded.

"Of course," she relented. "But we won't be returning for a year or two. Perhaps, you could make a journey back before then if you tire of the golden woods. I would insist either Glorfindel or Lindir escort you, however."

"Your escort would always be welcome in my halls," said the king, but in a slightly gruff voice as if he didn't think much of Glorfindel or Lindir.

The journey to Lothlorien continued soon after. Giri, the dwarf Harry had said had a beard that resembled a lion's mane volunteered to escort them to the edge of the golden woods. They followed the river Celebrant and the dwarf regaled them with tales of their people and their never ending search for more and more mithril. Once again, Glorfindel looked uneasy when the dwarf mentioned how deep they had dug below Khazad-Dum.

"You look like you want to say something, Master Elf," the dwarf Giri looked at Glorfindel with interest. "This is the second time you have expressed concern over our digging below the mountain. Is there something you are aware of?"

Glorfindel paused to find the correct words. "I have only instincts and those I am reluctant to share for they may give offence to one who had ventured beyond his home to guide us in our journey, Master Dwarf."

Giri laughed. "Though of Durin's line like my uncle king, you will find me a bit more difficult to offend."

"Many forget – and without any fault of their own for most people do not have the longevity of elves," began Glorfindel. "But we remember… we remember evil. Ancient thralls of the dark lord who shall not be named, the one to whom Sauron was a mere servant. We remember the evil he brought into this world. Many were killed but some fled and hid themselves in caverns inaccessible at the roots of the earth. When I stepped into Khazad-Dum, it was as if I felt the void turn its gaze at me."

"And you are worried the deeper we dig the more likely we will find such a cavern," Giri stroked his beard while he spoke but he didn't say much more.

They walked in silence until light faded. Giri was about to set up a camp when suddenly Harry stiffened. His extraordinary senses had been fired up and finally he made sense of something. "I can hear wolves," he said. "They are coming this way." Glorfindel looked at him seriously and then drew his sword. The other elves drew their weapons, some had swords and others bows. "They are coming very fast."

"Wargs," Lindir spat in disgust when they heard a howl in the distance followed by several others. "Good spot, Harry."

Celebrian was horrified. "Lorien is several hours away, and we cannot run, not with the twins."

Glorfindel nodded gravely. "We make a stand here."

"Don't worry, my lady," Harry moved to her side. "I won't let anything happen to the twins or to you. I promise." He felt something hit his head and immediately whipped out the Hat. With incredulous eyes, Harry pulled out the Sword of Gryffindor yet again and took a deep breath. "With this, I slew the serpent." He could feel a fire within him, singing like phoenix song and yet with the fury of a basilisk and the sword shimmered like pale moonlight in his hand.

The wargs attacked. He lost count of their numbers, but there were at least a couple of dozen of them and they descended upon them from the mountains. The archers managed to take down a few and Glorfindel and Lindir stepped ahead to defend Celebrian and Harry while Giri jumped straight into the middle to fight them.

"Incendio," Harry whispered and a whip of fire flew out of his free hand towards the approaching wargs. Harry controlled the whip with his mind, striking at the beasts with fury. "No," Harry's face turned white when he saw a warg was on top of Giri. The dwarf had not tarried behind, he had plunged himself straight into the middle of the attacking wargs and taken down two single-handedly. Out of pure instinct, Harry levitated the warg, making it whimper in fear while the dwarf got back on his feet and chopped its head off with one clean strike of his axe.

"Harry!" Celebrian shot arrows in quick succession. Several wargs had evaded the elves standing in a line before them and were only a few feet from him and the lady. "Look out."

Harry let out a primal scream and struck with his sword. Despite more than a year of training, he was not by any means a very skilled fighter, but he had superhuman abilities and the spirit of a basilisk, and that made all the difference. He ran through the wargs, skilfully dodging them with the reflexes of a star Seeker and his superhuman speed, whilst cutting and hacking at them with the moonlit sword.

"Take that!" he yelled. "And that!" Not until several moments had passed did he realise he had killed the remaining wargs and was hacking at a corpse while the elves and dwarf were staring at him with strange expressions.

Harry froze and looked around. Seven wargs lay dead around his feet. Three others had been burnt by his fire whip. The others had dealt with the rest.

'Godric would be proud' were the last words he heard from the Hat before his stomach turned and he vomited.

A while later, Lady Celebrian was tending to him with much affection and warmth, while the elves had set up a camp and were keeping watch for any other warg attacks.

"You fought as if you were possessed by the spirit of Tulkas himself," said Lindir, still in awe at the child's ferocity in battle. "Faster than the eye could see and without even the slightest fear or hesitation."

"But with terrible technique," Glorfindel added. "I see we need to resume our training at first light tomorrow morning."

Harry groaned, making the elves chuckle.

"I am in your debt," said Giri, kneeling next to the boy wizard. "That warg would have surely feasted on dwarf flesh if not for your timely intervention."

Harry turned red. "You would have done the same for me."

"Aye, I would have tried my best but even I cannot lift a warg ten feet high," said Giri. He looked at the elves and said, "You lot know the route from here. It would be best if I return to the Halls of Durin and let our king know about this. We will lead a dwarf party and drive away any remaining wargs nearby."

Celebrian nodded. "That makes sense. Please thank your king for providing us with a most valiant and courageous guide."

"My lady," the dwarf bowed. Then, he turned to Harry and also bowed, "The elves have a name for you, Master Harry. But after today it would be fitting for you to be given a name by Durin's Folk as well. In the name of King Durin, I bestow upon you the name of Gabilion, the Great Lion, and Dwarf-Friend until the end of Durin's Folk."

"Thank you," said Harry, overcome by the proclamation, "my friend."

* * *

Harry was struck with wonder when he first saw Lothlorien. He had read about the mallorn trees that grew in the woods, with golden leaves and silver wood, and yet, he wasn't prepared for the awe and fascination when he first set eyes on them. There was a very powerful presence of magic within the golden wood.

A host of elves were waiting for them. "Welcome home, my lady," the leader of the patrol bowed, and the others followed him.

"Thank you, my old friend," said Celebrian, rushing forward to give the leader a gentle embrace. "I have missed you. You know the others, but these are my sons Elladan and Elrohir and this is young Galen-Galad, our ward."

The Silvan elves looked at Harry with interest but Harry's interest was in something entirely different. The longer he observed the golden woods, the more attuned to its magic he was beginning to get. The Hat agreed with his assessment that there was a powerful magical ward protecting the forest. Lothlorien would be concealed from anyone with malicious intent.

Harry took a step forward and raised a hand, trying to feel the magic ward that was in place. A ripple of energy fizzled through the golden woods at the contact and a number of Lorien elves immediately drew their bows and aimed arrows at Harry. Merely a moment later, the Rivendell elves had drawn their bows at their cousins from Lorien in defence of the human boy they had come to love and admire.

"Enough!" Celebrian yelled, joining Harry and placing an arm around him protectively. "Did you not hear me, Marchwarden Haldir? He is under the protection of Lord Elrond. Surely, that is still worth something to the elves of Lothlorien." All the elves lowered their weapons with a hint of shame.

"I apologise, my lady," Haldir the elf lowered his head. "We felt the shock of Lady Galadriel and were concerned."

Celebrian tried not to smile but her lips quivered. "I suppose mother wasn't expecting another magic-user to be accompanying me."

Harry grabbed Celebrian's hand while they walked, still a bit shaken by the alien magic that was now all around him. "It's like I'm swimming in water," he explained. "Invisible water which isn't making me wet, but it's there nonetheless."

Some of the Silvan elves exchanged glances but no one said a word. And then Harry realised it. Lord Elrond had spoken to him of the lore of the three elven rings that hadn't been corrupted by Sauron, but other than Vilya which was given to Elrond by High King Gil-Galad shortly before his death in the battlefield during the War of the Last Alliance, he hadn't been told the fate of the other two rings. But clearly Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien had one of the other two.

"Nenya," he muttered. The Ring of Adamant had the power to protect, preserve and conceal and was attuned to the element water. That explained the sensation he was feeling; he was sensitive to the magic of the ring.

"We do not speak of it openly," said Celebrian, when some of the elves stiffened again, "for fear that our foes might overhear us and use the information against us in the future. Here, in Lorien, it is unlikely that anyone would overhear us, but I would urge you not to speak of it again. Such things are best left unspoken openly."

"I understand," Harry replied earnestly. "Do you think Lady Galadriel would teach me how to make magical wards so powerful?"

"Perhaps, if you ask her nicely," said Celebrian. As they walked, she started talking to keep Harry's anxiety at meeting another powerful magic-user at bay. "How my heart yearns to see Caras Galadhon again," she began. "It is the heart of the Silvan Elves realm. Three thousand feet from east to west, the city is built in the middle of, on top of, and out of, mallorn trees. In the very centre of the city, on top of the biggest mallorn tree, is the flet of Galadriel and Celeborn, where I lived for many centuries before I met Lord Elrond."

Harry walked in silence, occasionally picking up a golden leaf or a fallen silver branch and putting it in his sack. All the way through Eregion and the kingdom of Khazad-Dum and now Lothlorien, Harry had been collecting stuff that might potentially be useful to him with his magic. He didn't need a magic wand, but even he could sense what a powerful wand could be made using the mallorn wood and mithril. And so, he started a conversation with the Hat as they walked about how best to use the items he had been collecting that his eyes widened in surprise when they reached Caras Galadhon, which was every bit as stunning as Celebrian had described it.

"Such beauty," he muttered, even as Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn descended towards them. The trunk of the massive tree where there home was built had been carved into steps and they walked with even more grace than Harry had come to associate with the elves. His eyes caught a glitter on her hand – at first it shimmered brightly like a star, but after a few moments, his eyes pierced through the magical illusion and he saw the ring. That was when he realised Lady Galadriel was staring at him.

"Welcome home, daughter," said Lord Celeborn, raising his arms and inviting Celebrian to go to him. Galadriel turned her attention from him to her daughter and grandchildren for a few minutes. During this time, Harry and the other elves from Rivendell waited patiently. Harry could see that even Glorfindel and Lindir were somewhat uneasy and the answer came from the Hat.

'The elf-witch tried to enter your mind,' the Hat explained. 'She had been trying to do so all the while since you entered the forest but her attempts became stronger when you were in her presence. I think I can protect your mind while I am on your head, but once you remove me, your mind will be laid bare before her. Be wary of her, for the brief touch I had with her mind, I could sense a very Slytherin presence.'

"I can sense the love my daughter feels for you, stranger, and yet I know nothing of you," said Galadriel, turning her attention once again to Harry.

Harry bowed deeply. "I am Harry son of James of House Potter," he began in the style he had previously been introduced by Elrond to others. "I am a ward of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian."

Lady Galadriel walked around him in a circle. "I can feel something within you," she said slowly. "Something terrible… something beautiful… and more powerful than anything I have come across before." A look of lust followed by fear crossed her eyes and then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Welcome to Caras Galadhon, son of James. I thank you for the courage you showed in defending my grandchildren from the wargs."

Harry gasped when the Hat admitted she had broken through its defences. 'She is more powerful than I thought,' the Hat declared.

Harry cleared his throat. "My lady, I have a gift for you to thank you for your hospitality."

The elves who had accompanied Harry were surprised. All through the journey, he had spoken of a gift for the dwarves but nothing about something for Lady Galadriel. Galadriel considered him with curiosity, while he pulled out something from his sack. He had made secretly using the holly wood he had picked up from Eregion.

"Activate," he said, and the flute he had pulled out started playing a peaceful melody on its own. He handed it to Galadriel who accepted it with a smile.

"The gift of music," said Galadriel, running her hand over the length of the flute.

Something stirred in Harry's mind, a memory from a life left behind. An image of an old man in purple robes with a white beard wiping a tear from his eye as he proclaimed the beauty of music. "A magic far beyond anything we can do," said Harry, quoting Albus Dumbledore.

"Indeed," said Galadriel. She tapped it once and the music stopped playing and after another tap it resumed with a different melody.

Harry was surprised. He had enchanted it such that one had to say the words 'Activate' and 'De-activate' to start and stop it, but Lady Galadriel had tapped into the magic of the flute and bent it to her will.

"This is a very thoughtful gift and highly appreciated, Galen-Galad, for I see you have made it using wood from our old home west of the Misty Mountains," she said, once again surprising Harry as he didn't recall anyone mentioning his elvish name to her. "Come now, you must be tired from the journey."

Harry hesitated. "I can stay with Glorfindel and the others."

"Do not be ridiculous, child," said Galadriel. "You are my daughter's ward. You will stay in the home of Galadriel and Celeborn while you are here in Lorien."

The next morning Harry woke up early as usual, but this time he saw someone was up even before him. Lady Galadriel was walking by herself in the twilight and he joined her.

"I can teach you much, Galen-Galad," she said, "but understand this well, the magic I wield is poisoned. The power of my ring is subservient to that of Sauron and the One Ring."

"I don't understand," said Harry. "I thought Sauron never touched the Three."

"He did not, but Celebrimbor, the one who made the Three, learnt the art of artificing from Annatar, the guise in which Sauron came before him," she said. "Therefore, even though Sauron cannot control the Three, they were made in a manner that allows the One Ring to dominate them. Should he ever get hold of the One Ring again, he will certainly be able to overcome the power of the Three without any difficulty."

Harry frowned. "What if…" he hesitated. "What if I add a layer of magical ward using my own magic outside yours? That would be something completely alien to Sauron."

"Indeed," said Galadriel. "And that may deter him for a while, but I fear you do not fully comprehend the power of the ainu that is within Sauron."

Harry felt the basilisk stir within him indignantly. "Perhaps, you do not fully comprehend the power of the phoenix and the serpent that is within me."

Galadriel laughed in a musical manner. She reached down and kissed Harry's cheek gently. "Oh, I do, sweet child. You will be a major force to reckon with in a few years, of that I have little doubt. But Sauron has learnt the dark arts from a master who was once no less than a god. Regardless of how much power you have, you will fall short before the darkness of Morgoth that is now fuelling Sauron the Terrible."

Harry had no response to that. "Then, please teach me how to protect the ones I love. I beg you."

"Of course, child," said Galadriel. "Why would I refuse when the ones you wish to protect most are my own family?"

So, Harry finally had a tutor in magic other than the Hat, although Harry did keep the Hat on his head while learning from Galadriel since the Hat could pipe in with useful bits of advice on how to best combine the magic he was learning from Galadriel with the magic from Harry's home. As the days passed, he was able to create wards – simple ones, to begin with, and then some complex ones that detected the intent of the person who came upon it. And all along, the Hat helped him learn Occlumency while Galadriel tested his progress by trying to pierce through his mental shields.

After several months had passed, Harry was beginning to get restless as were some of the elves from Rivendell. They were used to vast open spaces whereas the Sindarin realm of Lorien was a concealed forest from which the elves rarely ventured out without permission from the lord and lady of forest.

"Avis," said Harry, and then plunged his mind into the falcon he had conjured as it flew out of the forest. Even though his eyes were closed, Harry's mind was filled with the falcon's vision. He smiled when he saw the twins running about. Nearly three years old, they were growing fast and were full of energy.

"Hawwy!" one of them yelled pointing at the falcon that was observing them, and the other also joined. Playfully, Harry urged the falcon to go down and fly in a loop over their heads before flying away. After an hour of flying freely in a falcon's mind, Harry released his magic and the bird vanished. He then walked to the chamber where Galadriel and Celeborn used to greet visitors.

"Harry, what can we do for you?" asked Lord Celeborn.

"My lord, would it be okay if I borrowed Glorfindel and Lindir and go out to explore Greenwood? I have heard so many tales of wondrous creatures who inhabit it, some sound very familiar from my home."

Neither of them looked surprised by his request. "The restlessness of youth," Galadriel remarked. "How well I remember it despite the long years."

* * *

"Unicorns!" Harry grinned in delight. "Look, my good elves, a sight only the most blessed are ever able to witness: baby unicorns." He pointed at a mother unicorn – silvery-white in colour with three golden baby unicorns next to her.

"Oh no," Harry groaned another day when he saw giant spider webs. "Not Acromantula again. Where's Hagrid when you need him? Guys, I think we should avoid this path."

And so, Harry led the two elves who had accompanied him through a merry adventurous trek across Greenwood the Great. He had wanted to go all the way north to the realm of the woodland elves but that would have taken over a month and Glorfindel was not in support of such a long journey.

"Greenwood reminds me a lot of this forest we had back home. We called it the Forbidden Forest, but I had been in there a few times."

"Why am I not surprised, Master Harry?" Lindir remarked sarcastically.

Ignoring him, Harry continued. "When I am older, I would like to live here for a while, maybe help the unicorns build colonies and protect them with wards to keep Acromantula out." Even as he spoke, he began to feel responsible for the safety of the unicorns. He was a wizard, and so it became his duty to protect the innocent magical creatures of the world from predators. But he couldn't lead the elves to danger. They had no reason to get embroiled in a fight against Acromantula. No, that was his job. The basilisk agreed vehemently within him. Spiders were foes that deserved to be crushed relentlessly.

"Why don't you guys go ahead?" Harry asked casually. "There's no danger from here back to Lothlorien and I'd like to stay here a bit longer… maybe meditate for a while."

"Nice try, Master Harry," said Glorfindel, sighing, as he drew his sword. "I suppose we are going back to kill the spiders in case they hurt those wondrous unicorns."

"Humans," Lindir drew his bow. "You couldn't mask your emotions even if your life depended on it."

Harry grinned. "If you're feeling up to it, you old-timers."

Glorfindel smirked at Harry. "Last one to slay a spider does all the cooking until we return to Lothlorien."

"You're on," said Harry.

Lindir released an arrow and a massive spider dropped dead a few paces in front of them amongst the bushes. "I believe the contest is between the two of you now."

Harry held the Sword of Gryffindor in one hand while the other was raised to cast magic. Suddenly, he had an idea. "Accio Spider," he called out, while keeping his sword extended in front. And his eyes widened in shock as half a dozen giant Acromantula came flying towards him. "Fuck," he cursed. He had hoped to summon one and impale it with his sword. "Incendio!" he managed to call out in time to create a wall of fire before him and the Acromantula screamed in agony as they burnt while they crossed through the fire. Part of him felt sickened at the screams of the giant arachnids, but the basilisk within him relished it. Spiders were foes and he was crushing them relentlessly.

He heard the sound of an arrow fly by him and kill a spider that was writhing in the ground. He turned to Glorfindel who was looking at him with a cheeky expression. Harry was about to object when he realised none of the spiders he had burnt had been killed yet and so Glorfindel did manage to slay one before him.

"Not fair," he called out petulantly. "I had him down already."

"Down, but not out," said Glorfindel. "Now, did you say their silk is of great value? I will go collect what I can find while you, Master Harry, prepare lunch."

Grumbling about evil elves, Harry waved his hand to summon a few twigs and snapped his fingers to light a fire before he started cooking. Looking up with a mischievous smile, Harry flicked his fingers and a small twig went flying towards the back of Glorfindel's head.

"I know it was you, Harry!" Glorfindel's voice yelled from the distance.

As Harry leaned against a tree peacefully, the Hat spoke to him again. Acromantula silk was one of the most prized materials for making robes. The silk was one of the strongest yet very light naturally occurring material that kept a person warm during cold weather and cool during hot weather. Once Glorfindel and Lindir had gathered enough of it, Harry started working on it. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should take the dwarves up on their offer and learn how to craft things properly, instead of the trial and error method he used with the Hat's instructions. With a lot of spells and Transfigurations, Harry finally ended up with seven sets of robes.

"Try it on," Harry urged the two elves, who after some initial surprise and hesitation, put on the robes. "Perfect. Hang on, give it a few seconds to adjust to your size." He had used the same enchantment he had used on the gauntlets he had given to King Durin IV.

"This is… extremely comfortable," said Glorfindel in surprise.

"You will not need another layer over this even when it snows," said Harry. "And it will still be perfectly comfortable in scorching hot weather."

"Perhaps, you should give this to the lord and lady of Lothlorien instead of us," said Lindir in a quiet voice. "This is much too precious for me."

"Nonsense," said Harry. "You're my friend and I want you to have it. I have made separate ones for Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel, Lady Celebrian and the twins."

"What about you?" asked Glorfindel. "You have seven robes only, and if you give to each of them and to us, you will not have any left for yourself."

Harry shook his head. "I cannot wear this. The spirit of the serpent inside me hates the feel of spider silk. But it was very fun to work with it."

"May I suggest a small improvement," said Lindir. "Perhaps, using the silver wood of mallorn trees to shape buttons and the golden leaf as a fastening would be a nice touch."

And so Harry set to work again.

"The dwarves were right," said Glorfindel. "You really love making things; you should learn from their smiths."

"I get the hint. You are missing the dwarves and their feasts already, good Glorfindel, and want to escort me back to their halls," Harry teased and Glorfindel glared at him.

When they returned to Lorien, it was already dark and Harry felt the presence of Galadriel in his mind. "You guys go ahead," he said. "Lady Galadriel wishes to see me. I think she's that-a-way." He parted from the other elves and walked a strange path he hadn't taken before, allowing his instincts to take over. Several minutes later, he found Galadriel standing on a raised dais which held a silver basin.

"Will you take a look?" she asked.

"What will I see?" Harry replied with a hint of nervousness. The basin was laced with a strange magic that was alien to him. Another power of Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, he assumed.

"That depends on the strength of your will," said Galadriel. "To some, the mirror shows things that were, to others, things that are, and to the very rare few, things that yet may be."

Harry took a deep breath. He stepped closer and then looked into the mirror. Immediately, the mirror rippled with magic and showed him visions. It began with a simple memory of him flying on his Nimbus 2000, chasing the Golden Snitch, and then the ripples changed and he saw peaceful Rivendell where Lord Elrond was returning from a victorious campaign in the north. More ripples. And he gasped in horror as the mirror showed fire and shadow and a terrible figure. A hideous beast, with wings of shadow and columns of fire. As it emerged, Harry felt the creature could sense his presence as well despite being a mere image in a mirror.

Harry pulled back from the mirror and stared at Galadriel in horror. The basilisk within him hissed in fear; and Harry knew that this was one of those very few beings in all of reality that Death had said would have the power to kill him. "What was that?"

Galadriel was also shocked and horrified by the vision in the mirror. "A forgotten enemy," she whispered. "Scourges of fire… demons of terror… Morgoth's oldest servants. Clearly, at least one survived the War of Wrath."

"Balrogs," Harry finally recognised from the lore he had studied with Elrond. "What does it mean? Will one rise again? Where will it come? The mirror didn't show any details."

Galadriel gave a weak smile. "The vision of the mirror is subtle. For all we know, the balrog may not awaken until long after our time. We should be ever vigilant, yes, but we must not allow a vision of horror to rule over our lives."

"How –" Harry began uncertainly. "How can I forget what I just saw?"

"I am not asking you to forget it," said Galadriel. "But push it back in some dark corner of your mind. Train yourself in every possible way you can so that if a day comes when you face this creature, you will be as prepared as possible, but do not let this vision rule over your heart and mind."

Harry was quiet.

"May I?" she raised her hand.

Harry frowned for a moment and then he realised she was asking for the Hat. He was slightly reluctant but then he handed it to her. "I am not sure if you will be able to communicate with it."

Galadriel smiled at him and placed the Hat on her head. Her eyes shined in a silver colour and an aura of power surrounded her instantly. After several moments, she removed the Hat breathlessly. "Thank you, Boy-Who-Lived, for giving me a glimpse of a different universe and a taste of the power that you possess." She raised a finger and a stone levitated up for a moment but that seemed to have exerted her tremendously and she grabbed to the side of the basin for support as her knees buckled. "Very fascinating and versatile, this magic you possess but it is not for me or any other person in middle earth to wield." She then turned to Harry. "You may not realise it yet, but you have the potential to be one of the most powerful persons in this world, and if you so desired, you could even become the most powerful person."

"Thank you," said Harry. Hesitating, he added, "There was a mirror back in my old world as well. It showed a person their heart's deepest desire."

"I know," said Galadriel, looking at him kindly. "I know what you saw on that mirror. I have glimpsed into your mind and seen what lies in your heart."

"Then, you know how much it means to me that Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian have accepted me as part of their family," he said. "And you and Lord Celeborn as well."

"I know that too," said Galadriel, stepping closer and embracing the boy. She kissed his forehead. "You are much loved, do not forget that."

"May I ask a question?" asked Harry trying not to blush at her words, when she let him go.

"I have a feeling I know what you want to ask," said Galadriel. "You want to know what I see in the mirror."

Hesitating, Harry nodded. "Only if it has anything to do with me."

"It does indeed," said Galadriel, with a smile. "A much happier vision than what you saw, and yet, I would rather not tell you in case my doing so would keep it from coming true."

"A hint?" Harry pleaded.

"You will learn the meaning of love and of hate, of happiness and of suffering, but ultimately, the evening star shines brightly in your future," she said and would say no more.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

On hearing the news, Harry groaned and shot a dark glare at Glorfindel who had a smirk on his face. "Do not say it, Master Elf, or I shall turn you into a toad for the rest of the day." That wiped the smirk from the elf's face, no doubt recalling the last time he had angered the wizard and had been turned into something unnatural. He looked at the worried Celebrian. "Do not worry, my lady. I shall go after the twins. They will come to no harm."

A few hours later, a furious Harry was walking back towards Rivendell with two teenage elves floating behind him in mid-air. "Honestly!" he swore. "Hunting orcs, indeed."

Elladan rushed in an explanation. "We were never really in any danger, what with the never-ending holly-wood quivers you gave us yesterday for our name-day, we were never really in any danger."

"The orcs wouldn't have known what hit them," Elrohir added.

"Besides," Elladan argued. "You went hunting wargs when you were even younger than us."

"Yes, Harry," Elrohir joined in. "It's a coming of age thing which we have to do now that we have seen 18 winters."

"I had a lot more sense than to run out by myself to fight dangerous creatures," Harry scolded them, and he glared at Glorfindel who coughed in a manner that sounded very suspiciously like 'spiders'. "Do you wish to add something, Master Elf?"

Glorfindel shook his head vigorously. "Something stuck in my throat… that's all."

"Good," said Harry, before turning to the errant twins. "Boys, you can't do this. Think about your mother; how would you feel if you woke up one day and heard that she had run away by herself to fight orcs? All alone."

The twins turned pale. "I…"

"And what if something happened to her, how would you feel then?" Harry demanded. "Now, that's exactly what you have put her through this morning."

"We didn't think," said Elrohir sounding miserable.

"Clearly," Harry stated dryly. "You should go and apologise to her and promise you won't go hunting orcs by yourself until you are at least 100 years old."

"But –" Elladan argued. "That's not fair."

"Yeah," Elrohir added. "You have started going on hunts and you're barely 12 years older than us."

Harry glared at them.

"Okay, okay," Elladan reconsidered his position.

"We promise," Elrohir agreed.

Harry watched them flee from his presence before his lips twitched in amusement. "They had barely reached the foothills, Lord Elrond," he said, having felt Elrond's presence some time ago, as the lord of Rivendell came into view. "Err… also, I don't think you need to punish them any further."

Elrond chuckled. "I think I rather pity them for having to suffer your displeasure when you caught up with them."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "I might have turned them into rabbits for a bit and sent wisps of fire at them until they got the point. There should be no lasting damage. And they won't be trying something like this in a hurry again."

Elrond nodded. "Harry, Glorfindel, please come with me." They walked into his inner chambers. "Cirdan the Shipwright has sent a messenger that a ship will be leaving before the end of this year to the west, and a number of our people have expressed their desire to leave."

A wave of sadness passed through Harry's face. He knew it was only a matter of time before all the elves left middle earth and he would be left alone with his immortality.

"He has also requested a meeting with you, Galen-Galad," said Elrond. "I do not need to say that Cirdan is the oldest elf in middle earth and exceedingly wise. If he desires to speak to you, then I daresay it must be concerning something of great importance."

"I will go to him," said Harry. "I suppose you would like me to escort the elf host which goes west."

"Yes, please, both you and Glorfindel," said Elrond. "I do not expect there will be any trouble on the road, but it does not hurt to be cautious. Moreover, this journey will give you a chance to explore the cities of men in the northern kingdom of Arnor." He spread a map in front of them. "If you take the Great East Road to Bree, then turn north, you will have the chance to stop by Annuminas on the way to the Grey Havens, although you may equally prefer to do so on the journey back."

Harry didn't respond but in his heart he knew Elrond was correct. He loved the elves tremendously but he was increasingly getting more curious about the ways of humans in this world. "Thank you, my lord."

Being out on the road again, Harry realised how much he loved travelling and exploring new areas. After his journey to Lothlorien, he had only made two more trips – each time to Khazad-Dum, to spend a few months learning from the dwarvish smiths and craftsmen but time had simply flown by. As the twins grew up, he had been like an older cousin. He had taught them how to fight using a sword together with Glorfindel, he had been the one to get them drunk for the first time, and that took quite some time given the elvish constitution. In many ways, he was a brother or a cousin to them, but at the same time, the age gap meant he was also somewhat of a disciplinarian. That was something Elrond and Celebrian had fostered from an early age, and he often suspected it was something they had encouraged in order to make Harry more responsible as well.

And he had become quite a responsible young man. At thirty years of age, he would ordinarily be considered a man in the prime of his life, but due to his immortality, the elves treated him as they would any other elf. He was still seen as a child by many, and it didn't help that his features had stopped ageing after he hit early 20s. He had resigned to the fact he would never be as tall as the elves but he was no longer puny, and his broad shoulders with his striking features made many an elven lass turn their heads with a shy smile. He had a shapely goatee and moustache, which added some years to his appearance but he still looked like a man in his 20s.

His strength, stamina and speed had continued to improve continually until the day he stopped ageing as well, and though he tried not to show it, if he wanted, he could fell a massive tree with a single push. And he did not even need to use his full strength to do so.

"Why do you think Cirdan wants to see me?" asked Harry when he was on the road with Glorfindel.

"It is said the Shipwright receives not only ships in his harbour but also visions in the night from Ulmo, the Lord of Waters" said Glorfindel. "I expect he has received a vision which has something to do with you."

"I wonder what it could be," Harry muttered. "Care for a spar?"

"Not really," said Glorfindel. "I do not recall the last time I won… it's getting rather old losing to you."

"Not for me," Harry said cheekily, and the elf rolled his eyes.

"Do you miss home?" asked Glorfindel suddenly. "Time has flown by so swiftly, and I cannot reconcile the Harry who has become the greatest of friends with the child who used to get into all kinds of trouble."

Harry was pensive for a few moments. "Home is Rivendell," he began. "But do I miss my old life? Not really. You know I haven't had the happiest of childhood – at least, not until I was adopted into the household of Lord Elrond, so I do not regret the fact I didn't go back there. Do I miss the few friends I had made there? Yes and no. I suppose I did at first, but they were part of such a brief moment of my life, now I can barely remember them." He smiled. "Sweet Hermione… yes, you would like her. She was a worse nag than even you. And Ron… hmm… he was the first person who wanted to be friends with me and for that I will always treasure his memory, but I doubt we would have remained close friends for long as we grew up."

"What if Cirdan offered you a ship that could take you back to your old life?" asked Glorfindel. "I doubt that's possible, but if he could, would you accept it?"

"Absolutely not," said Harry.

"Why not?"

"There is so much to do here," said Harry. "So much to see, so many lands to explore, so many adventures to have. Moreover, I have friends here who care about me and I would do anything for them. Why would I leave?" He frowned. "What is really bothering you, my friend?"

Glorfindel sighed. "The west," he admitted. "It calls on me."

Harry immediately understood and was saddened. "You are tempted to leave with the others."

"I do not know. I believe that is why Lord Elrond has sent me as an escort; to give me the chance to pass on even though I never expressed my desire to him openly," he said. "But you are right. How can I leave Elrond alone to shoulder all his responsibilities on his own?"

"Listen, Glorfindel," said Harry seriously. "You must do what's right for you. If you decide to stay behind, do so because you are still in love with Middle Earth and not out of some lingering sense of duty and self-importance. Lord Elrond will survive just fine without you, and if you stay back out of duty, then a day might come when you will start hating your life, yourself and Lord Elrond. Ask yourself what you want and why you want it."

"When did you become so wise?"

"I don't know," said Harry, feigning horror. "Is there something I can take to get rid of it?"

"Funny," said Glorfindel with a straight face. "Bree is a half hour straight ahead. The elves will cut here and move across Chetwood instead. Remember, do not expect much for this is just a small settlement. Annuminas is a great and ancient city, much bigger and developed than this little town. I expect you will find us on the north road."

"So long as you are within sight of ravens, I will find you and catch up with you," said Harry, and he waved at the elves who started leaving the road and cut in towards the forest. Once they had left, he galloped towards Bree, excitement rapidly rising inside him.

His first thought was one of extreme disappointment. Bree looked more or less like Knockturn Alley; every bit as dark and rough but without the magic. But despite the shanty appearance, the little town was quite busy, being located in what was quite likely the most important crossroads in the west.

"Hello," Harry called out in Westron, although most people simply ignored him. One merchant looked at him with interest from inside his stall.

"Can I interest you with some pipeweed, good sir?" the merchant asked with feigned with delight at seeing Harry. "Only the finest quality, of course."

"No, thanks," said Harry. "Could you direct me to the nearest tavern?"

The merchant's good humour rubbed off and he grumbled something under his breath while jerking his thumb in one direction. Harry raised his hat to thank the man, ignoring his rudeness, and walked in that general direction until he came across the Little Horse Inn. When he stepped in, it was as if nobody cared. The inn was bustling with activity. Scores of people were drinking merrily while one fat innkeeper and his golden-haired daughter were trying their best to keep everyone happy.

"A pint of your strongest brew," said Harry, when the innkeeper's daughter looked at him.

She gave him the once over and winked. "You want to buy a girl a drink? It's nearly my break time."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, sure," he said.

"Then, you will have to buy her da one too," the fat innkeeper rounded on him immediately with a raised eyebrow.

"And the man who was previously getting attention from the fair lass," another man stepped closer to Harry at the bar.

Harry rolled his eyes but shrugged. "Well, why not then," said Harry, and before he knew it, he was bought drinks for several people he didn't know.

"You're alright," said a man named Laefin, who was one of the freeloaders Harry had bought a drink. "New around here?"

"In fact, I am," said Harry. For some reason, he was drawn more to Laefin than the rest. It was as if his magic was trying to tell him something about Laefin but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "I intend to stay the night and then move on towards Annuminas in the morning."

"Oh, you're staying with us tonight?" the bargirl asked, licking her lips suggestively.

Harry swallowed a mouthful of ale uneasily. "If there is room," he said. "And if I have any gold left with me by the end of the night."

Some of the patrons laughed and the innkeeper let out a loud guffaw.

"So, where do you come from, Master Harry?" asked Laefin. "Your mannerisms are far different from the local folk. Gondor, perhaps?"

"No," said Harry. "I was raised by elves in Rivendell." Suddenly, it was as if the temperature in the room dropped a bit and many of them muttered darkly. "What?"

"Oh, never mind them," said Laefin. "Bree-folk have never taken much to outsiders, which is very odd given the location of Bree brings so many outsiders in contact with them. Up north, you will find Annuminas much more open to elves and other outsiders."

That night, Harry had barely settled into his dusty old bed in the dark and dingy room when the door opened. Freya the bargirl raised a finger to her lips and walked in silently.

"My lady," Harry whispered, making her giggle in amusement.

"Oh, I am most certainly no lady, good sir," she said teasingly. "And we're going to have so much fun tonight."

At first, Harry wasn't very certain but when the girl's lips brushed against his and he inhaled the scent of flowers from her freshly washed hair, he gave in to desire and pulled her on top of him.

The next morning, Harry woke up and was a little disappointed to find the girl had left him. With a wide grin on his face, he put on his clothes and walked downstairs. Freya winked at him with a smile, and if her father suspected anything about what had happened the previous night, he pretended not to.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he said. "Both of you. I will most certainly stop here on my way back."

"I'll look forward to that," said Freya.

Harry had stepped out and was about to conjure a raven to track where Glorfindel and the others had got to when he realised someone was following him. With a swift motion, he drew the Sword of Gryffindor and turned around. "Laefin," he recognised the man from the previous night. "What do you want from me? And is that even your real name?"

The man looked unfazed at the sword. He moved closer, ignoring the blade that followed his movement. "I thought perhaps you could do with some company on your journey for a little while."

Harry frowned.

"I have long desired to meet you, sorcerer supreme," said the man.

Harry's lips thinned. "You have me at a disadvantage," he said, while the Hat urged him to tear into the mind of the man and discover how he knew his secret.

"Pardon me," said the man, with a graceful bow. "I am Eldacar son of Valandil son of Isildur, heir to the throne of Arnor. Sometimes, I travel the realm under assumed names to better understand my people."

"Your highness," Harry said slowly, also bowing. "That still doesn't explain how you know about me."

"I looked at the seeing stone in the tower of Annuminas," said Eldacar, "and it led me to you."

"Seeing stone?" Harry repeated.

"Palantir," said Eldacar. "To most, it only serves as a means of communication with other seeing stones, but to those with the gift, it may give a glimpse of the future." His voice hardened. "It is both a gift and a curse, for I have seen my kingdom grow in might for a thousand years and then fall before a powerful and terrible foe. For long, that was the only vision I saw, but I kept demanding the stone to show me how to save my people. I too saw the green light, Galen-Galad, which led Lord Elrond to you." He raised his hand. "From the House of Isildur, I welcome you to the Kingdom of Arnor."

Harry grinned at him and took his hand. "Tell me more about this foe."

Eldacar shook his head. "We will have plenty of time to talk about dark things and evil sorcerers over the years but let us start this friendship with happier things. Did you really sleep with fair Freya last night?"

Harry blushed. "I don't think I was given a choice."

"Oh, you dog!" Eldacar laughed. "But if you thought she was something, wait until you get to Annuminas. Nothing but the fairest maidens in all of Arnor, and instead of dark and dingy taverns, you shall get to acquaint yourself with the finest ladies in the court of the king."

Harry couldn't help but smile at Eldacar's spirit. "Alas, I have some business further west and perhaps it is best if I focus on that first. But I give you my word, Prince Eldacar, when my business is concluded in the Grey Havens, I shall seek you out in Annuminas and we shall have all the fun two young men can have."

"Young?" Eldacar raised an eyebrow. "I am 62 years old."

Harry's jaws dropped. "Of course, the Dunedain have longer lifespan."

Within a few days, Harry had joined the elvish company again, still slightly shaken by his chance encounter with the prince of Arnor, with whom he had gotten along so well, he was disappointed when they parted ways. But Harry had decided to avoid the temptations of the human cities and carry on with the journey, for he feared if he went there, he might be too tempted to spend a longer time.

"The Grey Havens," said Glorfindel, when the elvish port came into view after nearly two more months of travelling.

Harry took in the sight of the great harbour town. "It astounds me how everything that elves build is so beautiful and serene," he said. "Oh, look, I think that's the great white ship you will be taking."

Many elves smiled at the sight of the ship, though some looked somewhat sad as well.

"Have you thought about what I said, old friend?" he asked Glorfindel.

The elf nodded. "Aye, and I thank you for your wise words. In my heart, I am still in love with middle earth and not ready to depart. Perhaps, a day will come in the future when I too tire of these lands and if I am fortunate, Cirdan would have a ship ready to embark on another journey." He waved at a figure in the distance. "That's Cirdan the Shipwright. We shouldn't keep him waiting."

As Harry walked closer, his eyes flashed with recognition when he sensed a powerful magical resonance coming from the ancient elf. He had discovered the third elvish ring. Cirdan welcomed the elves and his people led them away, while the Shipwright himself turned to Glorfindel and Harry, who were not leaving with the rest.

"You wished to speak to me, Lord Cirdan," Harry said respectfully.

"Just Cirdan, lad," said the old elf. "We will talk after dinner."

After dinner, Cirdan and Harry were sitting by the fireside alone. Glorfindel had realised the Shipwright wished to speak to the wizard in complete privacy and had made himself scarce. The flames in the fire rippled and danced and occasionally changed appearance to resemble that of a great ship sailing in water.

"I see you have recognised that which is in my possession."

"Narya," Harry nodded.

"It is wasted on me," said Cirdan. "Narya is not like the other two rings. It isn't meant for defence or preservation or concealment. The Ring of Fire is meant to be used actively by a great warrior or a leader in doing great things and to inspire others to do equally great things. High King Gil-Galad used its power to unite all of elvendom for the Last Alliance. At first, I had wondered if I should give it to you but now I realise it would be wasted on you as well. The power of Narya pales in comparison to the fire that is already within you."

Harry nodded. The ring was an inferior replacement of the power of the phoenix inside him.

"Others will come from the west, five of them, a long time from now. Wizards, with great abilities. Some will falter and some will fade away, but one will rise above the rest – it is he who will make best use of Narya."

"Did you have a vision about this?" Harry asked curiously.

"A dream," Cirdan corrected him. "Whether it was just a dream or something of substance remains to be seen…"

"Have any of your dream visions involved me?"

"Many," said Cirdan, surprising Harry. "Evil stirs once again in middle earth, though it does so slowly and in secrecy. Hundreds of years will pass before evil begins to reveal itself. Fools, we would be, if we do not make use of this time to also grow in strength and power."

Harry took a deep breath. "Prince Eldacar of Arnor saw the same vision. He requested my aid in protecting his kingdom."

"The evil that looms over the fate of Arnor is but a single head of your nemesis," said Cirdan. "Strike it down, and others will replace it, perhaps not immediately but soon after."

"Tell me, what must I do?"

"Pha," said Cirdan. "You ask that because you do not understand the subtlety of visions. I see things – good and bad, and what if something I say puts you on the track towards the bad…" He trailed off.

"Yet, you summoned me here," said Harry. "That means you do wish to tell me something."

"Yes, yes," said Cirdan. "This is the year 149 of the Third Age. You have many years, many decades, perhaps centuries, I cannot tell how long exactly, before your first challenging enemy will reveal himself. Do not waste this brief respite. Do not fritter away time in idleness. Realise the full potential of your magic and other abilities and learn as much as you can from that wondrous Hat on your head in the coming years for you may not always have its knowledge with you." He paused. "But do not turn away from happiness in the pursuit of power, for that is the first step into the abyss. And that is what I have to say to you, Galen-Galad: you will stare into the abyss and you risk falling deep into it."

"How will I avoid falling into the abyss?" he asked. "How can I stop myself from turning dark?"

"The fact that you are able to ask these questions is sufficient for now, lad. You will overcome the dark because of your love for the brilliant light. So, it is important you do not shut your heart to happiness and love. More, I shan't say."

Harry left the Shipwright with more questions than he had before he went to him. He couldn't dismiss the fact that both Cirdan and Eldacar had warned him that he would be fighting some evil foe. But was it the balrog he had seen in Galadriel's mirror or an entirely different foe? Regardless of all the new questions he had, the talk with Cirdan did change something within him; he started training in magic with a much greater fervour. He learnt spells, even those he didn't deem useful at the moment, but knowledge for knowledge's sake became Harry's newest pursuit. And no longer was he content to just learn the spells that the Hat taught him, but also learn more about the nature of magic and the things he could do in this world.

For instance, the Hat had told him many years ago that Apparition and Portkeys wouldn't work in this world but he now wanted to know why that was so and how he could get around it. And the answer was that back home, magic came from within a wizard, but here, there was living magic in the very air, which interfered with Apparition.

"But I could make runic gateways out of stone," said Harry out loud while sitting on a mound and observing the grey havens by himself.

'As stone is by nature inert, that would work,' said the Hat. 'And each gateway will require a lot of work and magic imbued into it over a period of time. It could take months, if not years, to create a single such gateway.'

"It would be worth it," said Harry. "Imagine, if Lord Cirdan and Lady Galadriel could take a few steps from their homes and be able to join Lord Elrond in counsel through such gateways, wouldn't that be a good thing?"

'But do not forget these gateways work both ways,' cautioned the Hat. 'Suppose one of the realms falls to a foe, then they would have access to all exit points through the gateway.'

"Not if I place wards restricting access," Harry argued back, and the Hat lapsed into silence. "Only with the permission of the gatekeeper on the other side, will one be able to travel through it. But you are right, I shouldn't just make these everywhere but only very select places. For now, I think just connecting the elven strongholds will be sufficient."

And so began the first of Harry's great handiwork in middle earth which began the very next day after his discussion with Cirdan the Shipwright and lasted nearly a decade including travel time in between and periods of respite. The Pillars of Union, he called them. Each gate was a Stonehenge-like construct, massive stones carved in specific patterns and arrayed in a specific runic formation, with magic so ancient and powerful that the very air sizzled around it. He created gateways in each of the Grey Havens, Rivendell and Lothlorien. The stones were covered in runes and imbued with magic. When the correct activation words were said, the stone would open a gateway to one of the other locations.

"To Galen-Galad, the Gate-Builder, who has made this reunion of the eldar possible," Elrond raised a glass. Next to him, Cirdan, Lady Galadrien and Lord Celeborn raised glasses as well.

Harry smiled at them and took a sip of his drink but his mind was already moving on to his next venture. "I wish to travel east," he told Lord Elrond the next morning. "I need to locate a few herbs to make a brew which would give me the ability to turn into an animal that best represents my nature. The Hat thinks the most likely place to find herbs similar to my world would be where magical creatures gather; so Greenwood would be my best bet."

"Very well," said Elrond. "If you do not mind, I would have you take Elladan and Elrohir with you. They are fast growing up and skilled enough to be tested out in the real world. And yet, I would have them be accompanied by one who would look after them well."

Harry hesitated. "I was planning to stay in Greenwood for a while to carry out some new experiments in magic and ensure the unicorn herds are safe."

Elrond was surprised. "How long were you planning to stay away?"

"A few years," said Harry. "And after that, I promised to visit Prince Eldacar of Arnor and I intend to drop by for his 100th name-day."

"In that case, I would suggest taking the twins with you to Greenwood to the halls of Thranduil," said Elrond. "Once there, it would be advisable to build another gateway, so the final stronghold of elves in middle earth is also connected with the Pillars of Union."

"Of course," said Harry. "And then the twins can return to Rivendell through the gateway."

* * *

"Where are the orcs, Harry?" asked Elladan, with almost far too much eagerness and anticipation in his voice than Harry cared for.

"Do we have to go through this all over again?" Harry asked, trying to keep a straight face but his lips quivered in amusement. "We are not trying to find orcs, we are manoeuvring around their known settlements to avoid an encounter with them."

"But you never know where they might have moved to since the patrol last scouted the mountains," added Elrohir. "Right?"

"Boys!" Harry said firmly. "I am sure a time will come when you will be sick and tired of fighting orcs, but let it come of its own accord; do not rush into it." He led them through the pass in the mountain. The trek was almost entirely too uneventful. There wasn't a single untoward incident.

"Look," said Harry, pointing at the distance. "The great eagles." He looked in awe at the majestic birds flying in the sky.

'You can breed magical creatures, you know. That could be your next venture in expanding your magical ability,' the Hat said in his mind. 'Hippogriffs, runespoor, thestrals, abraxans, basilisks, well?'

'No basilisks,' Harry said firmly.

'Really?' the Hat wasn't so sure. 'As the only Parselmouth in this land, you would have the serpent's complete loyalty.'

'No,' Harry repeated. 'They are too unpredictable. I cannot control where they look at all the time. What if they accidentally set their eyes on an innocent person? How do you breed hippogriffs?'

'The breeding of hippogriffs is a well-established practice,' said the Hat. 'You need to transfigure an ordinary eagle into a male horse. Once it mates with a mare in that form, the offspring will be born a hippogriff.'

'Something tells me the Great Eagles will not acquiesce to being transfigured by me,' sighed Harry. 'So, I guess we will have to make do with ordinary eagles.' He looked at the twins with a mischievous glint. "Boys, do you want to help me perform something incredible?" When they looked at him eagerly, Harry pointed at the valley. "Out there, you will find many wild horses. I want you to show me how much you have learnt and bring back at least two mares in heat each. Last one to come back cooks dinner."

When the elves had scampered away, Harry looked at the sky. The Great Eagles were not the only avian creatures around there and within minutes, he had summoned two eagles towards him and stunned them.

"Right, I hope I don't mess this up," he muttered. While he had transfigured elves into animals before, the transfigured animal he had chosen had always been something tiny. Now, he was doing the opposite; transfiguring ordinary eagles into much bigger horses. With much concentration, he soon had two large brown horses in place of the eagles.

"Any tips?" Harry asked the Hat.

'Thought you would never ask,' muttered the Hat. 'An eagle's pregnancy lasts 5 to 10 days while a mare is pregnant for 10 months. When you breed a hippogriff like this, the pregnancy lasts somewhere between 1 to 6 months. There are rituals and spells you can cast to make it towards the shorter end.'

By nightfall, each eagle-transfigured-horse had mated with two mares each, much to the elves' confusion, but when Harry explained to them what he was trying to do, they became as excited as him.

"Can we ride these… hippogriffs?" asked Elladan.

"With practice, yes," said Harry. "That's why I wanted four mares. One for each of us and one as a gift to King Thranduil."

"But wouldn't it make sense to keep more than one together?" asked Elrohir. "So, they may give birth to more in the future."

"I can breed more of the same," said Harry. To be honest, he hadn't realised how simple it was to breed magical creatures. But if breeding of approved magical creatures was such a common occupation back in earth, then perhaps it made sense that the magic needed to do so were well within the means of the average wizard, and Harry was anything but average.

They made slow progress across the Anduin valley and into Mirkwood, mainly because they didn't want to exert the pregnant mares and also since Harry would take long detours to locate the herbs he needed.

"I heard mother and father talking a while back," said Elladan out of the blue one day. "They were talking about having another child."

"Really?" Harry was surprised.

"Mother would like to have a daughter and grandmother said there was a very good chance another child would be a girl," said Elladan. "But father was of the mind that they should wait until we were a bit older, so they do not have to worry about us while they take care of the baby."

"But if he thinks we are old enough to go out by ourselves, then perhaps they might already be… you know… doing it again." Elrohir winked.

Harry made a face, which was mirrored by Elladan. "Please," begged Harry. "I really do not need that image in my mind."

"It will be nice to have a baby sister," said Elladan. "We will take good care of her."

Harry grimaced. "I really hope for her sake there are others more mature and responsible taking care of her as well."

"Ha ha," said Elrohir. "We know how to look after a younger sibling, Harry."

"Yes," added Elladan. "We have learnt from the best."

Harry raised an eyebrow and was very touched with their words. "Alright, enough with the soppy emotional stuff. I love you boys too and that's the first and last time you'll hear me say that."

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged mischievous glances. "We were talking about Glorfindel," said Elrohir.

Harry snapped his fingers and both of them turned into little bunny rabbits. "Stew, that's what I want for dinner. Rabbit stew." The bunnies started scampering about in alarm. Harry went through the motion of putting a pot on the fire and when the two transfigured rabbits were actually beginning to fear for their lives and contemplating running away, Harry burst into laughter and transformed them back.

"That wasn't funny!" Elladan complained.

"Not funny at all," added Elrohir.

"I don't know," said Harry. "Depends on your perspective." He stood up. "Well, if you don't want me to cook, then you guys can do the honours. I'm going to look for some more herbs." The reason he had left them was he had sensed something. Some sort of magical distress signal in the air. He followed the magic and soon he came upon the source of the disturbance.

"Aww," Harry said, when he saw the injured unicorn. She appeared to have broken her leg somehow. He walked closer to the unicorn to help her, but suddenly his senses fired up. A rustle of the leaves, the sound of someone breathing, a bow being drawn and an arrow being released.

"Incendio," Harry called out, turning around and raising a hand. The arrow was incinerated and burnt into ash before it reached anywhere near him. "When did it become acceptable for an elf to attack an innocent and unarmed stranger without reason?" he asked coldly.

A female elf stepped out from behind the trees. Unlike most other elves Harry had seen previously, she had red hair and very sharp features. "Innocent?" she retorted, masking the shock at seeing her arrow burnt into crisp. "I think not, stranger, for I can see you have hurt the helpless creatures of this forest."

Harry raised a hand and the unicorn shuffled towards him despite a broken leg and snuggled against him, much to the elf's shock. Harry moved a hand over the unicorn's head and whispered a few soothing words. Then, he touched the broken leg. "Osseo reparo," Harry muttered and a while light covered the broken leg of the unicorn and after a few moments, she stood up and was able to place her body weight on it again. "There, as good as new," he said gently to the unicorn, ignoring the shocked elf. "Be more careful in the future, okay?" The unicorn muzzled against his hand and then turned around and ran away faster than the eye could see, unless you had Harry's superhuman vision.

"How – what –" the elf began. "Who are you?"

"My name is Harry," he said.

"What kind of name is that?"

"It is a wizard's name," he replied. "And you are altogether far too hasty for someone who wields a lethal weapon. What's your name, elf?"

"Tauriel, and I wasn't aiming to kill," she replied, but she lowered her head with a hint of shame. "Someone's been hurting the creatures of this forest. I was finally granted permission by the king to hunt for the culprit, and when I saw you approach her, I thought you were the one."

Harry waved his hand. "Since you were acting out of concern for the unicorns, I will forgive you this time. But remember, dear Tauriel, not everything is as it looks like when you first see it." He smiled at her when he saw she looked very guilty and ashamed. "My companions are making dinner, and though far from being the best cooks I know, they are passable. Come, dine with us and we will put this unpleasantness behind us and never speak of it again."

She walked towards him warily.

"We are on our way to King Thranduil's court," said Harry, making conversation, as he led her back towards the place they had set up camp. "Perhaps, you could lead us there."

She hesitated. "The elves of Greenwood prefer to live in seclusion. I should warn you that our king isn't very open to accommodating outsiders and visitors."

"He will accommodate the sons and ward of Lord Elrond of Rivendell," said Harry, and the elf's eyes widened in surprise.

She immediately went down on her knees and lowered her head. "My lord," she whispered. "Forgive me for my rudeness."

"Please get up," said Harry, placing his arms on her shoulders and helping her rise. "And I'm no lord. We should hurry – or else the twins might finish all the food."

The twins had in fact just started eating and when they saw the guest, they were very polite and gracious and served her with a rather generous serving. Harry frowned slightly, and then he realised it – they were attracted to her.

"You wouldn't happen to have a twin sister, would you?" asked Harry suddenly, halfway through dinner. When Tauriel shook her head, Harry sighed. "Shame." He turned to the twins. "Looks like you boys will have to duel to see who gets to court fair Tauriel first."

Elladan and Elrohir spluttered and threw looks of betrayal at Harry. Tauriel meanwhile had turned red as well. Harry chuckled in amusement; riling up elves was so fun and something he had mastered over the years.

The group of four made their way through the forest. At one point, they took a prolonged break when the mares were no longer able to move, and after a few days, they gave birth to little hippogriff foals. All of them – even Harry – was amazed by the little winged horses with the upper body of an eagle. The first one was silvery-white in colour with wings that had alternate layers of black and white. Two were brown in colour with greyish wings and the final one was pitch black in colour with a white beak and white streaks on each wing.

"You're incredible," muttered Harry, looking at the little things while they were snuggled against their mothers. The Hat told him the mothers would abandon the babies soon, not being able to come to terms with their unusual and different appearances, and that was when they would form the first bonds with a human.

"Which one do you want to give to the king as a gift?" asked Elladan.

Harry turned to Tauriel. "What do you think?"

Tauriel took a deep breath and walked towards the silver-white hippogriff, which looked up at her with fascinated eyes. She raised a hand and the foal moved towards her and placed its head around her, clearly able to sense that the elf woman was more interested in him than the mare that had given birth to him.

"This one," she said with a pleading look.

Harry nodded. "I'll take the dark one, and you boys can pick one of the remaining." He looked at the female elf who had her arms around the little foal now and was smiling with a look of pure bliss. "I guess the king will have to appoint you his hippogriff handler." He picked up the black hippogriff foal easily, with his superhuman strength. "Now, what should I name you, girl?" A name from his past came to his mind and for a moment he felt his heart yearn for his old friend. "Hedwig," he said. "It was once the name of a very beautiful and majestic bird. I know you will be worthy of that name."

"Nimravan," said Tauriel. "White-wings. That is what I name you, little one."

"Dan," said Elladan.

"Roe," said Elrohir.

"Very creative, boys," Harry muttered dryly. "They grow up fast… in a few months, they would be big and strong enough to carry us on their backs."

"Awesome," said Elladan. "We can do hippogriff races."

"I bet Roe and I will beat you and Dan," challenged Elrohir.

Harry closed his eyes. "What have I done?"

* * *

The Halls of Thranduil were within a very intricate cave system in the north of Greenwood. Through a passage of bridges over rivers and streams, all hidden amongst trees, they came upon the high and many-columned front gate. Two elves stood outside in guard and Tauriel rushed ahead to speak to them. When Harry and the twins approached them, the guards moved aside to grant them access, although there was no warmth in their expressions. They walked into the main hall where King Thranduil was sitting on his throne.

"Welcome to the Woodland Realm, guests from Rivendell," the king stated in a monotone voice, which one could easily have mistaken for haughtiness but Harry heard behind it the patience and agelessness of one who had lived many thousands of years and was simply dispassionate towards much that happened around him.

"Your majesty," Harry stepped forward and bowed. "May I present the sons of Lord Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, who have long desired to visit their kin in the Woodland Realm?"

"Welcome, kin," said Thranduil, before setting his eyes on Harry. "And to you, Galen-Galad. I have heard much of you, Gate-Builder."

Harry stood up and gestured at Tauriel who moved closer to the king with the hippogriff. "Please accept this humble gift," he said. "Nimravan, a hippogriff, a creature of magic; one of only four in existence."

The king stood up and took a few steps towards the hippogriff, which instantly became still. He raised a hand swiftly and curled all his fingers except his index finger back. The hippogriff slowly walked towards the king and placed its beak on his outstretched finger. The king then stroked the head of the eagle with his other hand and then he looked up at Harry. Emotion had pierced through his cold mask; he was smiling at Harry.

"I thought long and hard as to what would be an appropriate gift for one who has seen all there is to see under the stars," said Harry. "And the answer was simple: something new, something beautiful."

The king made a motion for Tauriel to take the hippogriff away before moving swiftly towards Harry. "Nimravan shall become the royal mount in due course." He looked at one of the elves standing nearby. "Wine, for our weary guests." He touched Harry's arm and led him to a side. "I imagine you would like to build a gate connecting the Woodland Realm to the rest of elvendom in middle earth."

"Only with your approval, your majesty."

"You do not have it," said Thranduil in his dispassionate voice. "The Woodland Realm joined the Galadhrim and the elves of Lothlorien in the Last Alliance of Men and Elves against the Dark Lord. We suffered greatly. Thousands were killed, including my father, and we are yet to recover from the ravages of war. It will take us long to recover, and we will do so in solitude and the privacy of our realm." He looked at the hippogriff and then back at Harry. "Our cousins are welcome, and you are also most welcome to stay as long as you should like, but I shall not sanction the building of a gate that would one day become a curse upon my people, to answer the call of those who seek war, conflict and expansion more eagerly than we do. Am I clear, Galen-Galad?"

Harry sighed. He didn't agree with Thranduil's point of view but knew enough about the nature of the Silvan elves to know arguing would only antagonise the king and serve no other purpose. "Yes, your majesty, I will certainly not go against your wishes on this matter. However, should a day come when you change your mind and see a gateway as something your people would also benefit from, then I beg you to send a message and I will come to you at my earliest convenience."

Thranduil smiled at Harry's words although the smile did not quite reach his eyes. He raised a hand and an elf walked towards them carrying a tray with several goblets of wine. He picked up two glasses and took one to Harry. "A drink, then, between new friends who understand each other well."

Harry took a sip of the wine and took a deep breath. "This is without doubt the best wine I have ever had," he declared, much to the delight of the nearby elves. "I think I will take you up on your offer and stay here for a while."

"Indeed," said Thranduil. "Tauriel, since you have already befriended our visitors, please look after them during their stay here." He turned to the twins. "My son Legolas was born a few years prior to your birth; he will attend to you when he is done with his lessons today, and I hope the sons of Elrond will become good friends with the son of Thranduil."

Over the next few months, Harry spent time mainly by himself. The Sindarin elves of the Woodland Realm were a lot less friendlier than the elves of Rivendell or Lothlorien, but that was fine with him. He spent the time collecting magical ingredients and experimenting with different potions. Finally, the day came when the Animagus revealing potion was ready.

"Perfect," said Harry, observing the colour and consistency of the potion. It wasn't exactly what the Hat had said it should be but better than what he had hoped for since he had to replace some ingredients with close substitutes from Middle Earth. The potion would place him in a trance-like state during which he would explore the depths of his own personality until he discovered his Animagus form. Once that was done, everything else was relatively easy as it required one to Self-Transfigure himself the first time into his Animagus form and then that form was forever unlocked. Since he had been practicing transfigurations on the elves who annoyed him for several decades now, he was relatively confident he would be able to do that without much issue.

As he entered the trance-like state, Harry started going through facets of his character.

_I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you._

_Books and cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery._

_There is no good or evil: only power and those too weak to seek it._

_How will I avoid the abyss? How can I stop myself from turning dark? The fact that you are able to ask these questions is sufficient for now, lad. You will overcome the dark because of your love for the brilliant light._

_He was a wizard, and so it became his duty to protect the innocent magical creatures of the world from predators. _

_Please teach me how to protect the ones I love. I beg you. _

_I bestow upon you the name of Gabilion, the Great Lion._

Harry heard a roar. He opened his eyes and realised with a start that he was the one making the sound. Somehow, in his trance, he had triggered a Self-Transfiguration and had turned into his Animagus form. The king of the forest… and the king of the skies. He prowled towards the pool of water and stared at his reflection. A massive beak and head of an eagle, which gave way to a majestic mane of reddish-gold hair, the body of a lion. He spread his wings – more than ten feet in length and soared to the skies.

A few minutes of flying, and he realised the four hippogriffs were also soaring up towards him. He steadied his flight and through some psychic connection, realised the four hippogriffs saw the mighty griffin as their natural leader. He descended back to the forest.

"Harry?" Elladan asked uncertainly when the griffin landed. When the hippogriffs had flown off, he had followed their movements and came upon the majestic winged-lion with the head of an eagle. Elrohir, Tauriel and Legolas had also joined him by then.

Harry transformed back into his human form. He took a deep breath. The calm and controlled feeling while he was a griffin was beginning to fade and he realised what he had just done. He had become a griffin – a powerful magical creature.

"I'll be damned," he muttered. "That was fantastic."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed - do let me know if you enjoyed the story so far or if there's anything you found annoying! Writing is fun in itself but even more so when I hear your views (positing or negative).


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Harry walked out of his tent. The noise from the crowd was deafening, but he managed to tune it out. He had made it for Prince Eldacar's 100th name-day. The magnificent city of Annuminas was in celebration and a grand tourney had been arranged. Warriors from all over the land, including several dwarves and elves, came to test themselves against the finest champions of Arnor. There was jousting, archery, melee fighting and all kinds of other events.

After spending several years studying the magical herbs and creatures in the Woodland Realm and concocting various potions under the Hat's tutelage, Harry had finally returned to Rivendell, where he had joined Glorfindel in several skirmishes against orcs in the Misty Mountains. All of that had taken several years and by the time the two of them had pushed the orcs back to the north, Harry decided the time had come for him to return to the realm of men. With the blessings of Lord Elrond, Harry had decided to spend an extended period in Arnor to better understand the human culture in middle earth. But he wanted to do so without being known as a sorcerer who could do impossible things and always be on the beck and call of people; and what better way to forge an identity for himself than by winning the melee competition in the Prince's Tourney.

There were twelve contestants in total, winners of individual melees held a week ago to present the best warriors before the prince. There were eight other men in the tourney and three dwarves, other than Harry. The dwarves were not of Khazad-Dum and looked less refined and more aggressive than their kin who Harry had become quite close to over the years. But that was a good thing – for they wouldn't recognise him either. Seven of the men wore armour showing they were in Arnor's military while the eighth one wore plain armour and the visor on his headgear covered all of his face except his eyes.

"Begin," the warden shouted and dropped the flag when the king made a sign.

Harry only took the Sword of Gryffindor. The jewels on its hilt glinted in the sunlight and he could see many looks of envy from some of the contestants. He only picked it because now with the power of the basilisk within him, he could control the effect of the venom. Otherwise, he would never have considered taking that weapon in a show-fight.

The military men seemed to have grouped together to fight off the others as a team, whereas the dwarves also were going to fight as one unit to begin with. Realising he had to do something to even the odds or else risk exposing his magical abilities, Harry charged at the soldiers.

He struck fast, putting forward just enough strength to push his first adversary back, and with a swift motion, Harry whacked the poor man's sword arm with the flat edge of his sword. Once the sword dropped, Harry pointed his blade at the man's cheek and pricked it lightly to draw blood.

"The Lieutenant Commander of Amon Sul is out!"

In retrospect, Harry had miscalculated. By defeating an opponent in mere seconds, he painted a big target on himself and the dwarves suddenly realised he was a bigger threat than the other humans. Sensing an attack coming from behind him, Harry swayed to a side, while pushing his sword down just at the right moment to trip the dwarf that had charged at him.

"Yield," Harry commanded, standing by the dwarf's face, which was splattered on the ground. The dwarf growled and struggled to get up but Harry kicked his axe aside and pricked his arm.

"Rhogar of Clan Longbeard is out!"

He didn't have much time take stock of what was happening as four adversaries fell upon him – two men and two dwarves. Harry parried blow after blow with great skill, although truly, he was not even exerting himself or using his full speed or strength. From the cheers, he could tell the crowd was loving the spectacle and the skill he was showing, and there was an exclamation of outrage when two others also abandoned their personal battles to gang up on Harry.

"Looks like you need a hand," the man in the plain armour called out when Harry parried a couple of blows and positioned himself to get out of reach of his adversaries for a few moments. That warrior had been the only one who had fought other opponents instead of ganging up against Harry and had just defeated an adversary. He rushed into the middle and engaged a dwarf who was about to charge at Harry.

"As you please," Harry called out. "But don't expect me to go easy on you for this."

The man was out-manoeuvring the dwarf by sheer technique despite the dwarf's greater strength. "Wouldn't expect anything else," he returned. In a swift blow, he pierced the dwarf's armour and a trickle of crimson liquid oozed out. "Ah, sorry about that. You should get that looked at straightaway."

"Bolgar of Clan Longbeard is out!"

In between keeping six adversaries occupied, Harry was quite impressed by the skill of the warrior in the plain armour. He was nowhere close to Harry or the elves of Rivendell, but they had decades and decades to practice whereas this man had the mannerisms and fire of youth, assuming he wasn't of Numenorean heritage and had a longer lifespan. Nearly 57 years had passed since Harry had first come to middle earth, and so by his reckoning, he was almost 70 years old despite still having the appearance of a man in his mid-20s. He had lived a full life of an average human and so, even without his superhuman strength and speed, he would still be able to hold his own against superior numbers just by sheer skill and experience alone. But to see someone much younger fight with such valour and skill was quite fascinating.

As the melee carried on, Harry dispatched the remaining men until it was just him and the young man who had fought so valiantly.

"What is your name?" asked Harry with interest. "You fight well."

"Raegin of Annuminas," he announced.

"Your armour is too heavy for your technique," Harry noted. "You use speed and swift movement to gain advantage but your armour holds you back and slows you down. You should wear something much lighter than what you have."

"I have my reasons," he said icily. "Fight me."

Harry moved swiftly, using a bit of his superhuman speed and attacked the young man, and to his surprise, Raegin managed to parry it just in time. He attacked twice again and each time the youth held his own. "Ha!" Harry laughed in delight. "You are indeed very good. With some training, I can make you the finest swordsman in Arnor."

Raegin raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I'm not already the finest?" he asked cheekily as he struck out with his sword.

Harry moved to a side and smacked the blade of his opponent down with his free hand, knowing it wouldn't pierce his skin, while hitting hard at his opponent's fist with the flat edge of his sword. The young man let out a shocked cry and dropped his sword, which Harry kicked aside swiftly and raised his sword at the man's chest with a grin.

"Never mind," sighed Raegin. "I can recognise superior skill when I see it." He nodded at the warden to indicate he yielded.

"Raegin from Annuminas is out… and Harald Gryffindor has won the melee!"

Harry ignored the cheers from the crowd and walked towards the dais where the king, the prince and their honoured guests were sitting. Prince Eldacar stood up and said, "You fight well, my old friend."

"You know this man?" the king asked curiously.

"I have encountered Harald during one of my undercover visits to Bree," said Eldacar. He looked at Harry. "I extend my old offer to you yet again, Harald Gryffindor. Stay here for a while; I would have your counsel and your sword by my side."

Harry nodded. "I am at your command, your highness." After a pause, he added, "If I may start providing counsel to you from now itself…" The prince motioned for him to continue. "The man I fought at the end – Raegin – is an extremely courageous and skilled fighter with a noble heart. Talent such as that should not be ignored; I would recommend you to recruit him to your personal guard or in some other capacity you deem appropriate."

The prince exchanged a glance with his father. "Come with me," he said and led Harry through the back of the dais into the area where the contestants had their individual tents. He looked around for a few moments and then walked into one tent.

Harry followed the prince and he gasped in shock. They had entered the tent of Raegin of North Downs but that wasn't what shocked him. The young warrior he had just fought was in the tent and had removed the armour and was wearing a simple plain shirt and brown trousers, and for the first time, Harry saw Raegin's face and the long flowing golden hair that framed it. The warrior was a young maiden of great beauty, who looked from the prince to Harry with a bewildered look.

"May I present my daughter, Princess Elya? You know her as Raegin the warrior," the prince sounded very amused at the whole thing. "She takes after her father and has a penchant towards disguising herself and taking assumed identities from time to time." He walked to the girl and embraced her. "You fought well, dear heart. Take no grief or shame in your defeat at the hands of Harald Gryffindor, for he is the one I have seen in the palantir who will save our people from our foes."

"Lord Harald," she curtsied with as much elegance as she showed in the battlefield.

Harry took a deep breath while the princess blushed at his continued scrutiny. She was beautiful and had a very petite body, which was perhaps why she wore the thick armour to hide the fact she was a girl.

"I am no lord," he said. "But you, my lady, are as beautiful as you are skilled with the sword."

She looked at him furtively and lowered her eyes again and her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red.

"My offer is still open," said Harry, enjoying the effect he had on her. "If you wish to improve even further, come to me at dawn with a practice sword and the lightest armour you can find."

* * *

Harry stared at the proceedings with interest. Prince Eldacar was speaking most eloquently but the king's advisors were not easily convinced. They simply didn't see the need to establish a new fortress town east of Annuminas. Personally, Harry was finding himself in agreement with the advisors who cited the vast amount of resources that would be needed for such an undertaking; resources that could easily be used by the people of Annuminas for a better standard of life. But he also knew the prince had seen visions of the future and whatever he was proposing must have some sound reason behind it.

And he wasn't mistaken. After the council meeting was over, he explained his true reasons privately to Harry and Elya.

"Between the North Downs and the Misty Mountains, a fell realm will rise that will destroy Arnor and this fortress town I seek to create, Fornost Erain, will the last refuge for our people," he said.

Elya raised a logical query. "Why do you not tell them all this, father? Surely, they will accept your proposal if they know the threats we face in the future."

"I have in the past, my dear, and they simply don't care," said Eldacar. "It is a future threat; more than a thousand year after they and their children have passed away. Why would they care?"

"Why do you care?" Harry asked curiously.

Eldacar turned to Harry with a thoughtful look. "I suppose I care because I believe the vision was given to me for a purpose. I feel like I am responsible to do what I can to ensure the continued survival of the Dunedain… even if it isn't much. I saw a shining fortress that doesn't even exist currently holding out bravely against the enemy… how can I not do everything in my power to ensure this fortress actually comes into existence?"

Harry stood up. "What resources do you need, your highness?"

"The usual," said Eldacar. "Timber, stone, iron, food, gold and workers."

"Provide me with a ledger of how much you require of each and you will have what you need," said Harry.

Eldacar turned to Harry with a relieved expression. He grabbed a piece of paper and started jotting things down with a quill. "Are you sure you can do this?" he asked.

Harry looked at the numbers. "I will need a few weeks." He walked to the map and studied it again. "Meet me at the proposed site of Fornost in a month's time and we can start building your fortress at once."

"How can you promise that?" Elya asked curiously. "Surely, if you had such vast resources at your disposal, you would be the richest man in the kingdom."

"I have my tricks," said Harry. He glanced at the prince, who nodded. "If you are truly interested, feel free to accompany me, your highness. We can continue your training while travelling."

Elya's curiosity made her accept the proposal, but after she left, the prince took Harry to a side.

"I have seen the way you look at her and the way she looks at you. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to see you and her together," said Eldacar. "But I will not see her heart broken. If you wish to be with her, then you must give me your word you will spend at least 50 years in Arnor. That is all I ask; a mere passing moment for someone like you but a lifetime for sweet Elya, who unfortunately will not share the long lifespan of the menfolk of my line."

Harry glanced at the golden-haired woman and sighed. "She is a rare beauty with a sharp intellect and I cannot deny I find her very attractive. However, you know my curse, my prince. How can I be with someone who I know will someday pass away while I will linger on afterwards?"

The prince looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Then, what is your suggestion? To live alone forever until you become a bitter man with no warmth in your heart? That makes no sense. Sure, you will have to go through the pain of seeing your loved ones grow old and wither while you linger on but that is infinitely the better option than banishing love and warmth from your heart completely. My first wife – oh, I loved her so much; she passed away long ago. My sweet child Elya will pass away before I even become old. It took me many years of grief and loneliness after my first wife to realise that moving on to another was not an insult to the memory of the one you previously loved. It is just part of life for those with longer lifespans. So long as you remain true and faithful while you are together, you should not be scared of the fact that many, and not just a single person, will share your life's journey and each will do so only for a small part of that journey."

Harry was silent as he considered the prince's wisdom. He repeated, "I cannot deny I find her very attractive."

"Then, you have my blessings to court my daughter."

* * *

Harry felt Elya stiffen next to him and took her hand and held it comfortingly before she could reach for her sword. Dozens of dwarves were looking at them menacingly; some even had axes and maces raised, but Harry kept walking fearlessly towards the one who looked like some kind of authority figure. Othrikar was a mining settlement of dwarves in the hilly terrain of the North Downs, inhabited by a clan called Longbeards. After thinking long about the prince's proposal, Harry had decided approaching the dwarves with the aim of recruiting them to build the new fortress city.

Harry greeted the dwarves in Khuzdul, the language of the dwarves he had learnt during his time in Khazad-Dum. "Greetings, Masters of Stones," he said.

"You speak our language, human," the dwarven leader replied in the Common Tongue, "but that doesn't make you one of us. You are not wanted here. Go away."

"I have a proposal that will be of mutual benefit to both of us," Harry said. "If you reject this proposal, then we will leave without any further imposition on your people."

The dwarf made a motion for him to continue.

"I wish to employ Clan Longbeard in building a great fortress south of the North Downs," said Harry. "In return, you will be adequately compensated."

"Compensated?" the dwarf spat on the ground. "What can a human give me as compensation?"

Harry reached into the sack he was carrying and pulled out a chunk of shining bluish-silver ore roughly the size of his fist. Some dwarves gasped at the sight of the ore, while the leader took a deep breath. Harry handed the ore to the leader, who inspected it thoroughly. After a couple of minutes, he tossed it back towards Harry.

"My people have long desired to work with mithril like our cousins in the east," said he. "But such a paltry amount is hardly sufficient for what you ask."

Harry tossed the ore back to the dwarf. "I apologise for the misunderstanding. That was a gift; a gesture of goodwill from Harald Gryffindor, also known as Gabilion to the dwarves of Khazad-Dum. Should you agree to assist us, I will provide you with an equal amount of mithril per dwarf per month who assists us in this project." To him, that was an easy thing to provide, since all he needed to do was use his magic to make an ordinary mithril grow bigger in size.

That started a lot of whispering among the dwarves. Some were clearly very tempted by his offer while others looked uncertain. The leader looked at the mithril he was holding with fascination before turning to Harry again. "We will consider your proposal and get back to you at dawn in your camp."

Harry nodded and was about to turn around, but Princess Elya had something to add. She took a step towards the dwarven leader and knelt on the ground.

"I am Elya, granddaughter of King Valandil of Arnor," she said. "With all humility, I beseech you on behalf of my father Prince Eldacar for your help, Clan Leader. The new fortress city will be open to dwarves as well and we hope to build a place where humans and dwarves may live and trade with each other in peace. The purpose of the fortress is to be a shield protecting the rest of the realm from the orcs and other evil creatures that inhabit the Misty Mountains."

The dwarf nodded distractedly. He was more interested in the mithril than anything else the princess had said. "Fine, fine. We will take that into consideration as well."

Later, as they left the dwarf settlement and walked out to the open countryside to find a suitable shelter to make their camp, Elya was outraged. "I don't believe it," she said to him in disbelief. "It's as if they care more about mithril than about keeping themselves safe from enemies. How can an entire race of people be so blinded by greed?"

"It's not really greed," said Harry, taking Elya's hand to calm her again. He waved his free hand and several twigs and fallen pieces of wood gathered together and then with a snap of his fingers they caught fire. He sat down with Elya next to him. "Dwarves are not like humans; they care for their crafts and the things they make with their own hands just as we care about our loved ones and their safety. That is why we would go to great lengths to protect our friends and family while they would not give such things the same priority. But give them mithril or something similar for their finest craftsmen to make new and wondrous things, and they would be in your debt for a very long time. That's just how they are."

"How do you know so much about everything?" Elya asked.

Harry's eyes dimmed slightly. The answer to her question was he knew so much because despite his appearance he had lived many long years already due to his immortality. While he remained silent and pensive, the blonde-haired princess leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. Harry wrapped an arm around her and played with her hair and they enjoyed each other's company in silence while Harry made the flames dance in various shapes to entertain the girl, like he had seen Cirdan do using the power of the ring of fire. At some point, he started singing an elvish song while his magic made the fire depict scenes from his song. Elya remained transfixed snugly against Harry.

The next morning an emissary arrived from the dwarven clan. He relayed his message that the clan leader wished to speak to Harry again.

"That's a positive sign," said Harry, when he and Elya followed the emissary back to the settlement.

"Eighty dwarves for eight months," said the clan leader directly without wasting any time. "They will aid you in designing the plans for the fortification of this new town, build the outer walls and the citadel in the centre. The rest will be your own doing. Half the mithril will be paid in advance and the rest after completion. Take it or leave it."

Harry nodded. "I accept your terms," he said and stepped forward to clasp the clan leader's arms as a symbol of their mutual agreement.

Once he had the workers sorted, obtaining the other resources was not as much of a problem. In front of him lay a log of wood, a slab of stone, a slab of iron, a bag of grains and a bar of gold. "My magic can be used to conjure things out of thin air," Harry explained to Elya. "But conjured items do not last permanently. If I pour enough magic, they may last years, perhaps decades, but eventually they will return to the magic from whence they came. But there is a simple way around that problem. If you have even a tiny amount of an item, you can grow it or multiply it repeatedly until you have a large stockpile… and that will remain permanently."

"I see," said Elya, but her eyes widened in amazement when Harry used his magic to increase the single log of wood to two, and then those two were multiplied to four, then eight, then sixteen, and so on, until there were literally tens of thousands. He did the same for the stone, the iron, the bag of grains and the bar of gold. "This is incredible," she said, picking up one of the gold bars and tapping it. "You could become the richest man in Arnor."

"I could," said Harry. "But what would that be worth to me?" He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. Leaning forward, he kissed her lips. "I already have Arnor's greatest treasure with me."

And so, when Prince Eldacar arrived with an armed escort and about a hundred human workers he had managed to recruit into his service, he found Harald Gryffindor and his daughter intertwined in each other's arms, with their lips joined and completely oblivious to the newcomers.

"Looks like we arrived a bit sooner than we were expected," he said out loud and the two lovers suddenly jumped apart. The prince climbed down from his horse, handing the reigns to one of his escorts.

"Your highness," said Harry with a grin, while Elya was blushing fiercely. "I have the resources you had asked for. At dawn, eighty dwarves will join us and lend us their skills in building your new town."

"Nay," said the prince. "Not my town. Fornost Erain shall be the seat of my daughter Princess Elya and whosoever she chooses as her consort."

"Father!" Elya was surprised at the proclamation.

"It is a cheap replacement for the sceptre of Annuminas," said Eldacar.

"Under law, I cannot inherit the throne of Arnor," said Elya. "I know that, father, and I do not begrudge my baby brother Arantar. Such has been the ways of our people since Elros, the first king of Numenor."

"I know, dear heart," said Eldacar. "But Fornost is not just a gift or a reward for you. It is a sacred responsibility, and I believe you are the best person to rule over it."

* * *

The construction of Fornost Erain lasted nearly two years. The dwarves worked very swiftly and with such skill that the human workers were often left staring in wonder. On top of that, Harry sped things along with his magic, choosing to focus on those tasks that were particularly time consuming without magic.

Moreover, with the help of the Hat, Harry played an active part in the design of Fornost. In the end, they had overlapping star-shaped fortifications, which would make it very difficult to scale the walls during a seige. Inside, in the very middle was the massive white-stoned citadel with the inner keep, which was the tallest tower in the city where Eldacar intended to place one of the palantirs of Arnor. The citadel was big enough to have a royal palace, houses for the nobility and a garrison for the household guard. There were many towers, some for defensive purposes and other for residential use. The middle city was where the physicians had their clinics, the market, schools, guild halls and other similar buildings would be located in one circular layer and then the houses of the common folk. Beyond the star-shaped outer walls, there would be farms, timber yards, wineries, mines, warehouses and similar things which required more space. Of course, to begin with, they were only constructing the outer wall and the citadel with the inner keep, which took two years to complete.

Fornost was only one square mile in size, and could house a maximum of 200,000 people. According to the Hat, that was tiny compared to modern cities back in earth, but quite sizeable compared to the medieval cities from the time of Godric and Salazar and very well designed in comparison. In any case, the population of Arnor wasn't large enough to require anything bigger and they would be lucky to get it to even just a quarter of its full capacity, so Harry was fine with it.

Harry didn't just rely on the stone walls but also transfigured various griffin shaped statues on the walls that were enchanted to rise to the city's defence when attacked. The main gate as well as each of the other gates were guarded by giant stone statues of armoured knights, also enchanted to rise to the city's defence, when required. The inner keep was warded by magic using the most powerful wards he had learnt from Galadriel and the Hat. By the time the citadel was finished, even some of the dwarves were breath-taken by the shining new city and decided to move into the city and take trade as blacksmiths or goldsmiths.

"Please follow me," said Eldacar one day ominously, as he walked into the tent where Harry and Elya had been staying while overseeing the construction. "King Valandil has ratified my decision to appoint Princess Elya as ruler of Fornost under the High King of Arnor. However, that has sparked a lot of controversy in the royal court."

"Which of my cousins would seek to replace me?" asked Elya, with a bored look. "I am happy to duel them or match them in a contest of wits to prove I am indeed worthy of this responsibility."

Eldacar looked at her fondly. "I have no doubt you would destroy them all," he said. "But they do not seek to replace you as such; Ciryatar and Arantur, grandsons of Isildur and nephews to the king, have each vied for your hand in marriage, as has Beleg, my half-brother's son, grandson to the king."

"How can they do that?" Elya was distraught. "Ciryatar and Arantur are like uncles to me and I have always seen Beleg as a brother. I cannot marry any of them." She turned to Harry with a troubled look. "Besides, my heart is already with another."

"Do you think I do not want you to be happy?" Eldacar snapped, which was very uncharacteristic of the cheerful and kind man. "Nothing would give me greater joy than to see you two together." He sighed. "But I am not yet king, my sweet child, and King Valandil's word is final."

"Then, I renounce my position as ruler of Fornost," she declared. "I know these vipers only care for personal power and the intrigues of court. Once I have nothing, they will lose interest in me." She looked at her father's glinting eyes. "Unless… you have already thought of something else."

"King Valandil's word might be law," said Eldacar, "but even he would not set a precedent whereby the king takes away all right of a father to select his daughter's suitor. I have called for a challenge, a contest with a pre-determined criteria, and the one who is judged victorious will be the one to claim your hand in marriage. The contest will be held before the royal court so there is no doubt as to who is victorious."

"Excellent," said Elya. "Harry can defeat them in a duel blindfolded and with one arm tied behind his back."

"Alas, these vipers, as you call them, have also seen Harry's prowess in battle and convinced the king to veto any criteria which would allow a commoner with more training to win before one with noble blood," said Eldacar. "The descendants of Elros are known to be the finest breeders of great horses, far surpassing the skills of ordinary men. He who presents to King Valandil the horse which the king selects as royal steed will be victorious. Until such time, you are to return to the royal court."

Elya bristled. "So, my grandfather would trade me for a horse."

"Elya," Harry walked to her calmly and took her in his arms. "Do not judge the man without knowing his true mind. Remember, to him, I am but a nameless warrior without noble blood who won a melee and is assisting Prince Eldacar on a project which didn't receive the king's full blessings. Perhaps, his desire is solely to ensure his granddaughter marries someone proper."

When the princess calmed down, Eldacar shook his head. "One need only see the two of you together to realise how good a pair you are… In any case, I will have my stable boys bring the best horses from my stables to Fornost. You have six months to present before the king."

"That won't be necessary," said Harry.

"But all the others already have stables with horses of various ages," said Eldacar. "They chose this criteria specifically since you wouldn't be able to breed a horse in that timescale."

Harry shook his head. "If I must win my lady's hand by proving myself to the king and court of Annuminas that I can breed horses worthy of being the royal steed, then I shall do so with my own skills."

Elya smiled peacefully. "I have faith in you, my love."

* * *

The six months went by much slower for both Harry and Elya than the previous two years due to the fact they were parted from each other. Harry spent his time travelling in the North Downs in his griffin form, searching for the right horse to breed, while Elya was stuck in a mire of court intrigues. Wherever she went, people would have an opinion about who she should choose as her consort.

"I cannot believe you, Beleg," she had once yelled at the man she had grown up with who now claimed her hand in marriage. "How can you do this to me?"

"But, sweet Elya, I do this for you," Beleg had been shocked by her vehemence. "If not me, it would be one of our lecherous uncles who you have to marry."

"Is that your only reason?" she snapped back. "Or is it because you would like to see yourself sitting on the throne of Fornost."

Beleg had the grace to look somewhat embarrassed. "I cannot think of anyone better to rule than you, sweet Elya. But tell me the truth: do you not think I would make a better ruler by your side than some commoner with no name and no noble blood?"

"Harry is hundred times the man you are!" she declared. "He will win this stupid contest and we will be together soon."

"You are living in a fantasy world like your father and need to grow up," said Beleg sternly. "Do you really think the king will pick this commoner's horse even should it somehow miraculously be better than any of ours? The king's chief advisor whispers poison in his ears, and I only wish to protect you from an even worse future than you would have with me."

Elya's face turned pale. She had faith in Harry to bring the best steed but the thought that the king might deliberately choose an inferior one had not crossed her mind.

Beleg carried on. "Do you really think the court will accept a commoner as the second most powerful man in Arnor after the High King?" He shook his head. "No, sweet Elya, you must see reality for what it is. I speak to you as friend and ally. There are those in the court who already move against your father, for they say he is unfit to succeed King Valandil. Together, you and I, we could forge a powerbase for Uncle Eldacar when it comes to a question of succession."

"The other grandsons of Isildur," Elya said in disgust. "They have never truly accepted grandfather's authority since he was the youngest of Isildur's sons. Are you certain about the treasonous thoughts in their heart?"

"Absolutely," said Beleg.

"Then, I thank you for thinking about my father and my future," said Elya. "But I assure you, I will leave with Harry after this stupid contest and my future is safe while he stands by my side."

The day of the display finally arrived. A full court was gathered. King Valandil, youngest son of Isildur, sat on his magnificent throne in the royal palace of Annuminas. His son Eldacar sat closest to him with Princess Elya as did the various grandsons of Isildur, the king's nephews. Various other advisors, military generals and influential people also had presence in the court. And in the far end, the commonfolk were also gathered to see how the events would unfold. Few had doubts that one of Isildur's grandsons would win, although a few poets had written romantic songs and plays about the unrequited love of a valiant knight and the royal princess, most of which ended in tragedy. But the valiant knight in question was nowhere to be seen that morning.

"We cannot wait any longer," one of the advisors said to the king. "The contest must begin and anyone who doesn't appear before it ends will be disqualified and his claim to the princess' hand will be deemed renounced."

"Have faith, dear heart," said Eldacar, when Elya looked troubled at the proclamation.

The princess looked beautiful; her long golden hair was in a ponytail and she wore a simple blue dress with a mithril necklace Harry had made for her. She epitomised simple elegance and none of the men who looked at her could tear their eyes from her easily.

"Lord Ciryatar, are you ready?" asked the advisor when the king motioned for him to continue.

Ciryatar was the son of Isildur's third son, but he was also the oldest of Isildur's grandsons, a few years older than Eldacar. There was no doubt as he walked to the middle of the hall and clapped his hands for his stable boy to bring the steed that he already saw himself as the king. His robes were more lavish than the king's himself and he wore more items of jewellery than anyone else in the court. Unlike Eldacar, Ciryatar had allowed himself to gain weight over the years, and while he struck an imposing figure, all the young women wished as one that the fair princess not be subjected to life as his bride.

A massive dark-brown coloured horse was brought in with a vast mane and tail of white hair, in perfect contrast to the shiny coat of the horse. The horse moved with much elegance and intelligence, almost as if it knew why it was in the court and wished to make the best impression on behalf of its master.

"Very impressive, nephew," said the king. "Has the horse taken part in any races?"

"Two, your majesty," said Ciryatar. "It won one. The second, alas, was won by the steed that my cousin Arantur will present to you shortly."

"Then, let us not tarry," said the king, motioning for Arantur to move along.

In contrast to his cousin, Arantur was the son of Isildur's second son but he was also the youngest of the surviving grandsons of Isildur. One could tell he was close to his older cousin and acted in a manner very deferential to Ciryatar. Spineless, some considered him, but a very cunning and shrewd man, the brains behind Ciryatar's brawns.

His horse was presented, and again, the crowd was taken by the majesty and beauty of the horse. The horse was pure white in colour with golden hair that shone in the light. It was sleek and had a well-toned body and it moved fleetly.

Arantur raised a hand and the horse immediately lowered its upper body as if to bow before the king.

"Excellent," said the king. "An obedient horse is a worthy steed for anyone. Which of the two presented so far is swifter, in your opinion, nephew?"

Arantur hesitated. "They have both been tested twice. Once, my horse Turya won the race, and the second time, it was my most esteemed cousin Ciryatar's horse. Therefore, I am unable to say which of these two is swifter, but I can indeed say without any shadow of a doubt, that these two are the swiftest and most majestic horses in the realm." He then turned to the princess and bowed, with a lewd look on his face.

"I feel like running him down with my sword," said Elya.

"You will have to wait in line, for I might do that first," Eldacar muttered back. "Where is Harald?"

This time, it was Elya who was more patient. "He will be here," she said. "He has to."

The third contestant was Beleg, Valandil's grandson, and a much younger man than the other two. He went out to bring the horse he was presenting on his own. The horse he brought stunned everyone and even Elya felt her breath caught in her throat; first, at the sight of the beautiful beast, and then, at the sinking feeling that Harry might not be able to surpass Beleg.

The horse was quite ordinary in every respect except its coat had black and white stripes, running all the way from its head down to its tail. Even the king was speechless in amazement.

"Such a wondrous stallion," the king said. "However did you breed it, grandson?"

"Alas, your majesty," said Beleg, kneeling before the king. "I would take full credit but I cannot, for another gifted me a foal with similar stripes a while ago. Areth, the one before you, is its descendant."

"Surely, then the stripes of the steed are not testament of your own skill?" the king's advisor stated with a triumphant look of glee.

Eldacar had a grim expression on his face as he leaned towards his daughter. "Looks like my father's council has been bought by the other grandsons of Isildur. I fear…" He stopped abruptly when a cry spread from outside. He stood up and reached for the hilt of his sword but he needn't have. The cry was not one of alarm or terror but of surprise and wonder, and as Eldacar saw the cause of it, it was as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders and he started laughing.

"I didn't realise my paramour had such a predilection for theatrics," Elya had also stood up and had a relieved smile on her face.

The cause of the disturbance had been a figure soaring down from the sky. A gigantic horse that dwarfed Ciryatar's magnificent beast, brown in colour, with a crimson mane, and massive brown wings with crimson tipped feathers, was flying towards them. The horse flew straight into the court, with people rushing out of its path. The horse trotted towards the king and inclined its head. Harry was on its back and climbed down. He was wearing mithril armour that shone brighter than anything else in the hall other than Elya's mithril necklace. He had a dark elven cloak flowing behind him, fastened by a golden mallorn leaf. The entire court was bedazzled by the sight of the handsome youth, for despite his age his appearance was still that of a youth, who looked partly like a great warrior knight and partly an elven lord of great power.

Harry bowed before the king, then he bowed in the direction where Prince Eldacar and Princess Elya were standing with a cheeky grin on his face that Elya mirrored back.

"Your majesty, this is Rubeus, a winged-horse, the first of its kind," said Harry. "Should you desire, Rubeus has consented to be your royal steed."

The king considered him in silence for several moments. His advisors kept whispering things to him urgently, but the king's attention was fixed between the giant winged beast and then Harry. When the king remained silent, the advisor stepped forward.

"This is clearly not a horse!" he shouted. "Those were the terms of the contest; a horse that would be chosen as royal steed. As horses do not have wings, I deem this monstrosity disqualified together with its master. They are both freaks of nature."

There was a sudden uproar of outrage from the people. Many were outraged at the clear bias while some joined in support of what the advisor had said. Meanwhile, Harry raised his hand and Rubeus the winged-horse extended his wings, which extended nearly from one end of the hall to the other.

"I have had enough of this farce," said Eldacar, stepping in front of Harry, before the wizard did something that was beyond his ability to salvage. "A father's patience can only be tested for so long. This contest should never have happened since Elya has my blessings to marry Harald. But it did, and Harald has clearly demonstrated greater skill than any other. Will your majesty listen to the whispers of vipers and still declare another steed superior than mighty Rubeus?"

The king took a deep breath before answering, "And what if I do declare another steed superior to mighty Rubeus?"

Eldacar's eyes dimmed in disappointment. "Then, I will beseech Harald to take my daughter on the wings of mighty Rubeus far away from this poisonous court, while I hold back the guards that my king will no doubt send after us."

"You would defy the king!" the advisor shouted in outrage. "Guards –"

"That's enough," said the king softly, although a smile was slowly forming on his face. "Leave us." When no one moved, he said in a louder voice. "Leave us, everyone. Except you three." He pointed at Eldacar, Elya and Harry.

"But, sire," the advisor turned to him in shock, but the king waved his hand dismissively and the man bowed and departed.

As the hall emptied, the king was simply observing the three with interest. "Finally, the prince stands up to his father and shows his mettle." He stood up and walked down to where they were standing. He first went to the princess. "You will, of course, marry whosoever you choose. Do you really think I care so little about your happiness, child?"

The princess was surprised and slightly overcome by the hurt in the king's voice. "I – I didn't know what to think." She turned to Harry helplessly.

"Her thoughts and feelings are a product of your own schemes, your majesty," said Harry.

The king looked at him. "Yes, yes, I see that, but a grandfather can hope…" He walked to the prince next. "You are a good man, son, and you have a great heart. In the ideal world, you would be a great king ruling over a grateful people, aided by faithful and capable servants. But real life isn't ideal. My time will come to an end… and I fear you are too gentle, too mild, to deal with the burdens that would be left on your shoulders after I have left."

"Father," Eldacar sounded pained. "Don't say such things. You still have many years left in you."

"Your rivals mock you behind your back," said the king, without mincing words. "They plot against you and… and I sometimes wonder if you are even aware of all that is happening. You are far too consumed in your dreams of saving our people against some terrible foe a thousand years from now that you have lost sight of the foes that surround you today. For the first time earlier, I saw in you the man who would be able to hold the kingdom together after me." He gripped his son's shoulder. "I need that man to always be out there."

When Eldacar was silent and lost in his own thoughts, the king walked towards Harry. "You saw through my plot, did you not?"

"Not entirely, your majesty," said Harry. "I suspected there was something else motivating you than pressure from your nobles but I knew not what it was." He paused. "I thought you wanted me to make a strong impression before your nobles that would make them realise Fornost would be in good hands with me standing beside its ruler."

"You certainly made a strong impression," said Valandil. "Next, they will be calling you Tuor reborn. But that wasn't all, was it? If I read the situation well, it was you who gave Beleg the foal from which he bred this striped horse, was it not?"

Harry grinned sheepishly. "I spent a few days in disguise here in Annuminas to ensure Elya was safe," he said. "I spoke to each of the three men who wished to marry Elya. Beleg, while ambitious, is quite vociferous in his support of Prince Eldacar."

"So it would seem," said Valandil after a moment of hesitation. Then he looked at the princess. "Go now; you are very fortunate, princess, to have found someone who would go to such lengths for you. Your new realm awaits you, and there's a fine steed that is perhaps feeling quite restless in this confined space. Let mighty Rubeus be the sigil of Fornost Erain." He turned to his son. "Come, Prince Eldacar, we have much to talk about the future of our realm."

* * *

Harry walked out into the terrace of his palace in Fornost. He waved at Rubeus and Hedwig, both of which were on the terrace and eating in their respective places. Golden mallorn trees grew all over the place, interspersed with Nimloth, the white tree of Numenor. The terrace was a beautiful place, cultivated by Harry and Elya over a decade of tender care. He liked walking out there. Other than the keep tower where a palantir was placed, the terrace was the best vantage point that gave him a clear view of the city. With his superhuman vision, he could literally see through from one end to the other of Fornost. The city had grown rapidly and the population was now nearly ten thousand, with a hundred or so dwarves. He could see the dwarves were already hard at work, and if he focused hard, he could heard the clanking sound of hammer hitting anvil. Some children were out and about, playing in the open spaces of the lower town, which wasn't yet fully constructed.

To many people's surprise, including Eldacar, Harry had decided to focus on looking after the economy and civil affairs of Fornost, while Elya took primary responsibility of creating and organising its military.

The economy of Fornost was dependent on three main things. First, the wares created by the dwarves, from jewellery and ornaments to armour and weapons. Merchants came from all over Arnor to buy these wares, and in time, word about the splendour and wealth of Fornost spread to all corners of the realm. Sometimes, Harry would join the dwarves and give them a hand in making something particularly brilliant using his magic, and in time, he forged a close friendship with Clan Longbeard. Second, Harry had taken up his new hobby of breeding with much fervour and decided that the Abraxan he had bred to win Elya's hand should become the symbol of Fornost. In size, they were about as big as an elephant and a spectacular sight to behold. Harry could see the seven new abraxans he had already bred grazing beyond the outer walls. The winged-horses had become a great source of pride for the people of Fornost and every child in the town dreamt of becoming an Abraxan-handler under Harry's tutelage or joining the new winged cavalry division of Fornost's military. But that had also led to a mass migration of horse-breeders and horse-handlers to Fornost. The third major contribution to Fornost's economy was wine. Harry had learnt much about the art of wine-making during his stay in Thranduil's court and had planted vineyards to produce wine, the sales of which would fill up the treasury of Fornost.

All in all, Fornost was growing in size and splendour and its people led peaceful and prosperous lives. Taxes were so low that many people moved to the town for that reason alone. Healthcare and education was free, with physicians and teachers receiving payment from the treasury. The various guilds were also given a stipend from the treasury, meant for the training and betterment of the various workers and craftsmen.

In respect of the military, Elya had created three specialised divisions: the wardens, the knights and the rangers. The wardens were responsible for law and order within the city and manned the various towers and walls. They were trained primarily in defensive warfare and how to hold back a siege. The knights were trained for offensive warfare out in the open, trained in combat by Elya and occasionally Harry. Rangers were the new winged-cavalry division, and the intention was to eventually have the best knights be further trained as Abraxan riders, who could fight enemies with bows, spears and lances while airborne.

After the initial years, Harry had taken to spending his free time putting into writing the potions he had designed during his time in Greenwood, which only required ingredients found in Middle Earth. Some of these the Hat had suggested when Harry located herbs and creatures with similar characteristics as those found back in his original world, but thereafter Harry began to get the hang of it.

As he mused about his life in Fornost, he heard footsteps and a few moments later, a woman's arms embraced him from behind.

"Husband," Elya called out lovingly. "It is not like you to leave our bed before making love to me in the morning."

"I had a dream," said Harry. "It troubled me and I wanted to get some fresh air."

"Do tell me what ails you," she nuzzled his ear, trailing kisses down to his throat.

"I dreamt of a world in decay," said Harry slowly, pulling her in front of him. "All life had rotten away, the oceans had dried up, and even death had turned on itself. There was no life, no light, nothing that spoke of beauty or happiness. The air was filled with poison from the sun, the land was cursed. And I… I still lived, alone and without any purpose. I still lingered on."

Elya held him tightly, not knowing what to say.

"I fear a day might come when that vision comes real," said Harry, admitting the fear in his heart since he had come to terms with the true nature of his immortality.

"It will not," Elya looked at him intently, her eyes blazing with emotion and determination. "Did you not say that you will one day learn how to travel between worlds?"

"That is what I was told," said Harry. "Nearly 70 years have passed since I first arrived in Middle Earth, and I still haven't been able to do that."

"Give it time," she said simply. "70 years is nothing even for the men of Numenor descent, so to you, it is even less." She hesitated. "I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"I want you to promise me that after I am gone, you will mourn me for one year, but then you will move on and seek love and happiness again," she said firmly. "One year, no less, no more. I do not want you to shut yourself to the world just because I could not join you in your immortal life."

Harry looked at her with a troubled expression.

"I saw how my father suffered after the death of my mother," she said. "I was a very young child then, but I never want you to suffer like that. I was the one who eventually talked him into taking a second wife, for I knew my mother would have wanted the same. Please, give me your word you will move on after me."

Harry was overcome by emotion. "I give you my word," he said. "But I also give you my word I will do everything I can to keep you with me for as long as I can." He kissed her hand. "I have to consult with the Hat." He left her and went inside and grabbed the Sorting Hat and put it on his head.

'Well, look who has finally remembered me," the Hat muttered darkly.

'I apologise, my old friend,' said Harry sincerely. 'I was busy with the affairs of Fornost. I need your help.'

'Yes, yes, I see your mind,' the Hat said unhappily. 'I would counsel you strongly against what you seek to attempt.'

"Why?" Harry said out loud, unable to hold back the heat from his voice. "Why must I be cursed to lose the ones I love when I have the strength and power to keep them with me?"

'You do not have the right to defy the natural order of life and death,' said the Hat.

"I have that right!" Harry shouted back. "I am immortal and have already defied the order of life and death once and can do so again."

The Hat sighed in his mind. 'The Philosopher's Stone may prolong life for a bit longer but it is no promise of immortality, not in the manner you think it is. Towards the end of their lives, the Flamels were no longer happy. They kept on living, because using the stone had become a force of habit, but I was there when Albus Dumbledore told them the stone was destroyed. Instead of being angry or even saddened, Madam Perenelle started laughing joyfully and she hugged Albus. Nicholas told his former apprentice that he had delivered them from their curse, that life would once again have meaning for them now that they had only limited time left."

"Be that as it may," said Harry. "I would still learn the secret of alchemy from you."

'I see you are determined on this course. To master alchemy is no simple pursuit. Many wizards devote an entire lifetime to learn just the basics and never even manage to embark on the true path of alchemy. You are fortunate, for you have time.'

'I don't have unlimited time,' said Harry. 'I need to have created the stone before I lose Elya to old age.'

'Then, it is fortunate that you already know the basics of alchemy,' said the Hat, to Harry's surprise. 'All the new potions you have created using the ingredients found in Middle Earth, all the metal work you have learnt from the dwarves, the oneness with nature you have experienced with the elves, these are all necessary steps an alchemist must take. What remains before you, however, is the final and most difficult task.'

'What is it?'

'The philosopher's quest,' said the Hat. 'The stone's purpose is to purify. Metal reverts to its purest state – gold. Life reverts to its purest and cleanest state. To create something that has the sole purpose of purifying, you must first purify yourself with the knowledge of creation and convert the base material of your outer character to the golden properties of your higher self. The philosopher's quest is about the evolution of consciousness in the alchemy of time.'

'How do I go about it?'

'I do not know,' said the Hat. 'But from what little I know of the subject, the journey, I believe, is as important, if not more, as the destination.'

With those cryptic words, Harry wandered out of the palace. He walked amongst the people, and many bowed their heads and smiled at him as he walked. Both Harry and Elya were good to the people and were much loved in return. He made his way to the keep and walked up the tower. With the seeing stone in his hand, he sought audience with Cirdan the Shipwright, the oldest elf in Middle Earth.

"I can see your face in the fire, Harry," the Shipwright's face appeared on the seeing stone. "What ails you today? How can I be of service to you?"

"You wouldn't happen to be a spiritual authority, would you?" Harry asked with false lightness. "I seek the knowledge of creation to convert the base material of my outer character to the golden properties of my higher self." He quoted the Hat.

Cirdan smiled. "Such deep philosophical mysteries often ail those more advanced in age than you, young Galen-Galad," he said. "But alas, there is no easy answer for what you seek. Meditation, I understand, is still the best way."

"How does one learn to meditate?"

"You ask that because you do not truly understand the meaning of that word," said Cirdan. "You cannot learn to meditate – you either do it or you don't. To meditate is to live in the present moment, to realise that the past never existed and the future never will, and the present is all that is. Every moment you live in is now, not back then, not later, but here and now. If your mind believes you need to learn it, then you are already looking at the future – a later moment when you would have supposedly learnt it, and so you fail to enter the here and now."

Harry frowned.

"Once you reach perfect union with the present moment, you can hear the music of the Ainu," said Cirdan. "That is when you have become one with your higher self." When Harry remained silent and looked at him with a confused look, Cirdan sighed. "Go to the Old Forest and seek the one known as Iarwain Ben-Adar, or Tom Bombadil, as some call him. If anyone can help you on the path to union with the music, it is he."

"Thank you," said Harry and closed the connection.

After a brief farewell to Elya, Harry transformed into his griffin form and flew towards the Old Forest. As the forest was within the boundaries of Arnor, Harry didn't think he was at all breaking his promise to Prince Eldacar. He would find this Tom Bombadil fellow, and after a brief chat, be back on his way to Fornost.

After all, what could go wrong?


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Harry opened his eyes. He was in the Old Forest, outside the humble cottage of Tom Bombadil and his fair maiden Goldberry, the River's Daughter. Time seemed to have stopped having any meaning in Tom's land, and Harry had already stayed with them for many weeks before he finally begged Tom to teach him how to meditate, such was the peace and bliss he experienced in the presence of the fatherless and ageless enigma that was Tom Bombadil.

Tom's advice had been simple. "The easiest way to get into the meditative state is to begin listening. Simply close your eyes and allow yourself to hear all the sounds that are going on around you, listen to the general hum and buzz of the world as you listen to music. Don't try to identify the sounds you are hearing, don't put names on them, simply allow them to play with your eardrums." He hummed as he lay the table with milk and honey and bread. "In other words, let your ears hear whatever they want to hear." Tom dropped a bowl which made a loud clang. "Don't judge the sounds: there are no proper sounds nor improper sounds, and it doesn't matter if somebody coughs or sneezes or drops something — it's all just sound."

Harry leaned back again and they ate in silence; well, not really silence, since Tom started humming another song, while Goldberry sang a completely different tune. At first, Harry found it very distracting but slowly he was beginning to realise they were doing it deliberately and a smile came on his face.

Tom continued after dinner was over. "As you hear sounds coming into your head, your thoughts, you simply listen to them as part of the general noise going on just as you would be listening to birds chattering outside the window. So look at your own thoughts as just noises. And soon you will find that the outside world and the inside world come together. Your thoughts are a happening just like the sounds going on outside, and everything is simply a happening and all you are doing is watching it."

While Tom spoke, Harry found himself becoming increasingly lethargic and sleepy, as if there was something hypnotic in Tom's voice. But then he was distracted. With a frustrated sigh, Harry stood up and walked out of the cottage. He found himself a nice comfortable rock by the river and attempted it again.

His days went by like this, in the pursuit of listening to the music of the universe. Days rolled by, weeks, months, time stopped having any meaning in Tom's country, and Harry was completely oblivious to everything but the present moment, so lost and consumed was he in the pursuit of the Great Music.

And then finally, he heard it.

It wasn't a music like any other music he had ever heard, it wasn't something his ears heard. No, it started as a vibration. He felt it resonate all through his body. His limbs felt light and then they felt heavy and then they felt so alien that he couldn't even move them if he wanted to. His breath became deep and long and very slow. The pause between his breaths became increasingly long. The hum and buzz of the outside world no longer registered in his mind. It went in through one ear and out the other. His thoughts were stilled, mesmerised.

In the beginning, there was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made. And he spoke to them, propounding to them themes of music; and they sang before him, and he was glad. But for a long while they sang only each alone, or but few together, while the rest hearkened; for each comprehended only that part of the mind of Ilúvatar from which he came, and in the understanding of their brethren they grew but slowly. Yet ever as they listened they came to deeper understanding, and increased in unison and harmony.

Then the voices of the Ainur, like unto harps and lutes, and pipes and trumpets, and viols and organs, and like unto countless choirs singing with words, began to fashion the theme of Ilúvatar to a great music; and a sound arose of endless interchanging melodies woven in harmony that passed beyond hearing into the depths and into the heights, and the places of the dwelling of Ilúvatar were filled to overflowing, and the music and the echo of the music went out into the Void, and it was not void.

As the music took shape, the Ainur developed distinct personalities; some began to interweave discordant themes while others fought ever harder to reconcile the theme back to the way it ought to be. One Ainur felt a ripple in his music and turned his gaze upon Harry.

That was when Harry opened his eyes. He took a deep breath. He had no idea how long he was in his trance-like state but the seasons had changed already and trees that were young were full grown. What he had experienced had been so surreal and otherworldly that memory of the music was already beginning to fade from his mind. Knowing very well the harder he struggled to hold on to it, the faster it would disappear, Harry simply let go of controlling it.

"We meet again, Harry Potter," a familiar voice spoke.

Harry turned his head slowly. "Death," he nodded in acknowledgement.

"Namo, if you please," said the tall man who had set Harry on his current course of life after the Chamber of Secrets incident. He walked closer to Harry and sat down on a stone by the river a few feet from Harry. "Death is but a theme that I have the honour of being responsible for in this single happening of the Great Music."

"So, was it you or someone else who met me after the Chamber of Secrets?"

"What difference does it make?" asked Namo. "I am no more or less than the music I make. Death is not a being, not an Ainu, not a god, not a demon. It is a theme, a concept, and you, Harry Potter, are inexplicably linked to this theme. Every universe you go to, every reality, every new happening of the Great Music, you become part of my theme. To me, our friendship is ancient for I have known you since before the birth of time and the making of this world and you were always part of my theme. Even though you didn't actually arrive here until much later, the music was already played before the birth of time."

"Then, you know what has led me to this moment," said Harry.

"I do," said Namo and a look of pity came upon his face. "Alas, you have spent too long in your oneness with the music; time loses meaning when you are so fixated and a mere moment can be the passing of a lifetime. The one you sought to keep confined to the mortal world has already left Middle Earth and rests now in the House of Spirits."

Even as Namo spoke, a profound sense of loss and sorrow crept into Harry's heart. He hadn't seen all of the music, he had forgotten so much, but there were some things he remembered. "My sweet Elya," Harry felt tears come to his eyes and yet the grief was part of his outer self. His inner higher self knew Elya would forever be part of the Great Music and death would not change that.

"Is there anything else you would ask of me before I depart?" asked Namo.

"If I understood the music, then death is never really the end and the House of Spirits is not the final destination," said Harry. "Tell me, Namo, what happens to an ordinary mortal when they die? Tell me, old friend, what fate my sweet Elya suffers now that is forever denied to me?"

"You ask a question that could take years to answer. But I will give you a brief one, incomplete as it may be, but which shall be a response to your current thoughts. Try to imagine how it would be like if you went to sleep and never woke up." He remained silent for a few moments. "And if you think long enough about that, you'll find out, among other things, that it will pose the next question to you. What was it like to wake up after having never gone to sleep? That was when you were born, of course. You see, you can't have an experience of nothing. There is no dark place where you are locked up to suffer an eternity of sensory deprivation; there is simply peace until your spirit is ready for its next adventure in a new happening of the Great Music. So after you're dead the only thing that can happen is the same experience, or the same sort of experience, as… when you were born."

Harry nodded slowly. As Namo spoke, he felt he could recall the Music.

"Her spirit will move on in due course," said Namo. "She is part of your theme, and wherever you go, whichever happening of the music you join, her spirit will follow."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Will I find her?" he asked pleadingly. "Will we be together again?"

"You will certainly cross paths, but will you recognise her and be together as man and wife? That I cannot answer, for such questions are beyond my theme," said Namo. "I must depart now."

"One moment," Harry cut in. "Why are you here? Why did you stop me from my connection to the music?"

Namo paused. He looked at Harry intently and then he took a deep breath. "You have already forgotten - perhaps, that is not such a bad thing." He paused for a moment. "You had come in too deep, my friend, and let it be sufficient for now that my appearance here was to bring you out of your long trance and to send you back to the world of the living."

"Thank you," said Harry, but the Vala had already vanished. As he walked back to the house of Tom Bombadil, he saw trees that were once young were now old, marking the passage of time even longer than he had feared. In Tom's cottage, the table was already set for three. Without saying a word, he walked in and joined them for a peaceful dinner, with each of them humming a different song as and when the mood took them to do so. He had no idea how the outside world had changed but here in the house of Tom Bombadil, there was no place for anything but peace and content.

* * *

"A pint of your finest ale," said Harry to the new barkeeper of the Little Horse tavern in Bree. He had learnt that almost twenty years had passed while he was in the Old Forest. How the time had flown by without him realising it, he couldn't comprehend. Much had happened during this time. Valandil had passed away and Eldacar was in the middle of a bitter civil war with the other grandsons of Isildur. The civil war truly started when the king had become too old and lost control over his advisors and military, while Eldacar was still not truly accepted by the court of Annuminas. The usurpers hired assassins to kill Elya, since Fornost was the key strength and support-base for Eldacar if it came to a question of succession. They had also murdered Eldacar's son Prince Arantar, to further strengthen their claim since they had a clear and safe line of succession.

Eldacar and his supporters were pushed to the hills of the North Downs, whilst Ciryatar ruled over Annuminas and his cousin Arantur ruled Fornost. All of Bree was abuzz with rumours that the final decisive war would soon take place in upper Baranduin vale, east of Lake Evendim.

"What about the rangers of Fornost?" Harry asked. "Who do they fight for?"

"One of the first acts of Lord Arantur as ruler of Fornost was to order the slaughter of the rangers and their Abraxans," someone piped in. "Their loyalty to Princess Elya was unquestionable."

Harry felt his heart wrench in pain. The innocent winged-horses had done no one any harm. Why were they murdered?

"But rumour is that some of the Abraxans fled before the order could be carried out," said a youth quietly. "Whether or not that is true, the unfortunate fact is that Abraxans are not going to be assisting Eldacar's army either."

"Unfortunate?" another man raged suddenly. "I say, that's a fortunate thing. Or are you a traitor as well, Master Raegin?"

Harry froze at the name. He observed quietly as the barkeeper intervened before a brawl erupted and kicked the man called Raegin out, unwilling to be seen consorting with traitors to the stronger power in Arnor. Finishing his drink, Harry walked out of the tavern and followed him. Within moments, he felt something sharp poke his back.

"Who are you? Why are you following me?"

Harry frowned. How had he sneaked past Harry's supernatural senses? "The more important question is whether Raegin is your real name or an assumed one you choose to use when in hiding?" he raised his hand and the man felt his sword burn up in his hand and dropped it in shock. He took a deep breath when he saw the colour of the man's eyes change from grey to emerald green. Very familiar emerald green.

"My real name could get me killed," said the young man. "Who – Who are you?"

"Fate's little bitch, I guess," Harry muttered. "I assume you are the son of Elya of Fornost." He didn't need an answer as the shock in the youth's face was answer enough. Harry closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened his eyes again, he looked at the young man in a new light, drinking in the sight of him. He was slightly taller than Harry, lean and muscular, but his appearance spoke of the rough life he must have been living in recent times. His clothes were old and frayed, tattered in places, and his sword was barely serviceable. But the final giveaway was the sack concealed under his cloak. It was Harry's old sack, enchanted to be bigger on the inside and to allow access to someone with his blood.

"I am sorry," he whispered finally. He had no idea Elya had been pregnant otherwise he wouldn't have left her when he did. "I am so sorry."

The young man took a step back. His face had turned pale and the shock made his appearance change and his features greatly resembled Harry's when he was in his teens. The boy fished out a long dagger from the sack and pointed it at Harry.

"Put that away before you hurt someone, son," said Harry. He grimaced when the word 'son' felt very strange and alien.

"You can't be him!" the boy cried out. "He died, he must have. He wouldn't have abandoned mother for so long."

Harry's eyes dimmed and once again he felt them water, realising all the pain, grief and uncertainty he would have put his wife through during his absence.

"And if you are truly him, I want nothing to do with the man who abandoned us," he spat in anger. "Nothing, do you hear me?"

"I hear you," said Harry, sorrowfully. "And if that is what you truly want, then so be it, I will respect your wishes. But right now, we have a war to fight and a kingdom to reclaim for your grandfather."

The boy took a few deep breath and turned away. He walked a few paces, clearly very agitated. And then he finally turned to Harry with a scathing look. "Fine," he said. "Mother said you were the greatest and most powerful warrior in the realm. I left grandfather's side to search for the Abraxans but I haven't found any. I was about to give up the search."

"How much time do we have?"

"Not nearly enough," he snapped. "Battle may start in as little as a week's time. We are weak and outnumbered five to one with limited resources. The Abraxans were our final hope."

"Did she…" Harry began but faltered. "Was she…"

"She loved you until the end," the boy snapped. "A lot of good that did her."

Harry turned away again, shame and regret filling his face at the judgmental tone of his son whose childhood he had completely missed. "Was it quick?" Harry asked again. "Or did she suffer?"

"The assassin stabbed her with a poisoned dagger and then raped her," said the boy heartlessly. "She was in excruciating pain, mentally and physically, for nearly three days before she succumbed to the poison. I was by her side and all she would say, despite the pain, was to... was to have faith in you."

Harry clenched his fists as he heard the boy speak and his knuckles cracked. Magic sizzled up within him, rearing to burst out. His eyes turned reddish-amber in colour and he let out a primal scream. "Who?" he asked coldly, and the boy seemed half nervous and half pleased at the sight of his father's fury.

"We do not know where the assassin was from," the boy said. He hesitated and then handed the dagger he had taken out a while ago to Harry. "This was the dagger that was used to kill her. The poison has been cleansed."

"Then, this is all I need," said Harry. He closed his eyes and allowed his magic to reach out. Tracking spells weren't difficult when you were close to a person or had an object that belonged to the person you were trying to track. The assassin was many hundreds of miles away, but he cast his mind towards others. He sensed several Abraxans not too far away.

"Which faction has the Commander of Weathertop declared for?" asked Harry.

"Amon Sul has sided with grandfather and promised men to support his cause in battle," said the young man, using the proper name for the watchtower. "But the much bigger garrison at Elostirion has taken the side of the usurpers. Tharbad has stayed neutral, too far away from the battle to care which side wins."

"We make for Weathertop, Raegin," said Harry. "We will travel north with reinforcements."

The boy nodded thoughtfully. "James," he said. "She named me James after my grandfather."

"James," Harry tried it out, looking at the boy, who did look like a replica of James Potter at that age, being taller and with broader shoulders than Harry had. "How long have you been able to change your appearance?"

The boy looked at him strangely, as if part of him wanted to hate Harry while another part hungered to learn more about his father and heritage. Eventually, the former won. "You would have known had you stayed," he answered before walking away to collect firewood.

Harry remained silent after that, observing the boy's resourcefulness as he lit a fire and made a shelter for himself using nothing more than what nature provided. Like Harry, he had dark hair, green eyes and typical Potter facial features, but he had his grandfather's build and height. Did he have any right to call James his son, he wondered as the boy slept. Moreover, how had his magic stabilised without any wizard training him in magic? Metamorphmagi would have helped but that was hardly sufficient.

"Prince James," the commander of Amon Sul had come out on his horse with two other guards to see the newcomers when Harry and James arrived there the next morning. The commander climbed down and bowed. He then looked at Harry curiously. "My eyes deceive me," he whispered.

"You are not being deceived, Commander," said Harry. "I am happy to have a melee contest with your seven finest and remind you of the first time we met."

"Lord Harald," the man bowed. "You have not changed at all since that day."

"The curse of longevity," Harry said. "I entrust my son to your care."

"Why am I not surprised you're leaving again?" James said acidly.

Harry turned to his son. "There are five Abraxans in the wild not far from here. I will gather them and bring them back by nightfall. I will be faster alone."

James merely nodded curtly. "I will test the men here in the meantime and see if any of them can be trained to be rangers quickly."

* * *

Harry walked until he was out of sight from the tower and then he knelt to the ground and took several deep breaths. How had his life suddenly turned upside down so quickly? Where was the divine peace he had felt only days ago in the Old Forest? But now was not the time to feel sorry for himself and wallow in self-pity, he decided as he stood up. He needed to find the Abraxans. He determined the location of one Abraxan, transformed into his griffin form and reached there swiftly but before he could go any further, he saw a sight up in the air that made him pause. He blinked a few times to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him.

Three hippogriffs were flying towards him at full speed. For the first time since he had met his son, Harry felt his heart lighten and a smile came on his face when his enhanced vision saw the three elves riding the hippogriffs. Glorfindel was on Hedwig, while Elladan and Elrohir were on Dan and Roe, respectively.

Harry clasped hands with Glorfindel and both exchanged a smile, before he proceeded to hug the twins.

"You have been missed," said Elladan. "Mother has been most unhappy with your continued absence."

"Yes, father has been rather pensive as well," said Elrohir. "Only the birth of Arwen managed to cheer them up again."

"Arwen?" Harry asked.

"Our sister," said Elladan. "She was born sixteen summers ago."

"She's such a brat," added Elrohir, with a fond grin. "She wanted to join us and hunt orcs the other day."

"Can you believe that?" Elladan continued. "She's always been a little bit crazy."

"We had to scare her with stories of Galen-Galad the Terrible and what he does to little elflings who misbehave."

"And make her promise not to attempt anything stupid like run away from home until she was at least 100 years old."

"I have missed you lads so much," Harry laughed. "But if you don't mind me asking, what brings you here?"

"Hedwig," said Glorfindel. "When she suddenly arrived in Rivendell one morning, we were concerned something had happened to you. But Lady Galadriel convinced us you were safe. She further said the day would come when Hedwig would return to you, and that would herald a time when you will need friends more than you ever have."

Harry's smile faded. "I have done something terrible."

The three elves were shocked by the sorrow and pain in Harry's face and voice. Glorfindel looked at him with concern. "Tell us then," he said. "Whatever has happened, you have the three of us with you now. We will fix things together."

And the whole story came pouring out of Harry, about his friendship with Eldacar, his marriage to Elya, the construction of Fornost Erain, his pursuit for the philosopher's quest, the music of the Ainur, the time lag, and the things that had happened in the twenty years he was away including the fact his wife was raped and murdered and he has a son who hated him. The only thing of importance he left out was the personal meeting with Namo, the Vala also known as Mandos.

"I am sorry for your loss," said Glorfindel. "I know very well how swiftly the lives of men move, kingdoms come and fall, generation upon generation goes by in the blink of an eye, while the Eldar stay behind without any change, and you are like us in this respect, unable to reconcile how swiftly things change in the lives of ordinary humans. Your son is a descendant over more than two dozen generations to Elros, brother of Elrond Half-Elven, who chose to live a mortal human life while Lord Elrond chose to follow his elvish heritage."

"I wished to live one normal human life," said Harry. "But I see now that I cannot."

Elrohir changed topics. "I would really like to meet my young nephew."

"Nephew, in more ways than one," said Elladan sombrely.

"Do not worry," Elrohir promised Harry. "We will do our best to make him accept you."

Harry smiled at them. "It is good to see you three. I will have to remember to thank Lady Galadriel for sending you to me," he said. "However, I must leave at dawn for battle."

"Very well," said Glorfindel. "That works just fine for us."

"No," said Harry firmly. "This is not your battle. I will not have you risk your lives unnecessarily."

"We are coming," Elladan declared.

"Yes. The only way you can stop us is by turning us into toads," said Elrohir firmly.

Glorfindel glared at Elrohir. "Don't give him ideas," he muttered darkly.

"I'm not turning anyone into a toad," Harry said tiredly. "I have enough family members hating me as it is." When he saw how the mood dropped again at his words, he sighed. "But rabbit… that's fair game."

"For that terrible pun." Elladan tossed a twig at his face, which froze in mid-air and then flew back towards Elladan, who dodged barely in time to avoid getting hit. "Ha! Missed me," Elladan smirked, only to be hit on the back of his head as the twig did a u-turn and flew back.

"How I have missed this!" Harry declared while the elf grumbled under his breath. "Come on, I don't have time to waste. I need to find the other Abraxans and take them all to Weathertop. There are four more."

"Give us a location each, and we will help you and don't waste your time trying to stop us," said Glorfindel. "And some day when everything has settled, I would hear more from you about the music of the Ainur."

Harry raised his hand. He was standing on a higher terrain. Behind him the three elves were mounted on their hippogriffs. James and four newly appointed rangers were mounted on the Abraxans. "Not yet," he said, observing with his razor sharp eyes the battlefield a mile ahead of them.

* * *

Eldacar had refused to even see Harry when he had arrived at his tent, and the wizard had not pressed the issue. With James as a go-between, they had devised a strategy that Eldacar would commence battle and draw the armies of the usurpers far enough so that they wouldn't easily be able to retreat. And that was when the airborne warriors would sweep in from behind them and cut through the opposing army at each flank. In the chaos and confusion that would ensue, Eldacar would press forward.

"They are assembling," he said. He was observing the proceedings in the battlefield with interest. Eldacar had moved to negotiate with Ciryatar, even proposed a split to the realm, to avoid unnecessary bloodshed of their people, but the oldest grandson of Isildur had refused all proposals. He desired absolute power. In fact, he even suggested after securing Arnor, Ciryatar would turn south to claim the throne of Gondor, with an army behind him, to force the issue if necessary.

"Can he really see all the way?" Harry heard James whisper to the twins. While he was still too angry to speak to his father, James had taken to the twin elves with much warmth and friendliness.

"Yes, and he can hear us as well," said Elladan. "Very annoying, actually. We could never sneak up behind him."

"Oh, that's not very hard," said James. "I was able to double up behind him and stick a sword to his back without him finding out."

"Really?" Elladan was grinning. "That's more than anything we have managed to do."

"You're my new hero," said Elrohir. To his brother, he added, "I wonder why Harry left this out of his story."

"We can't let him live this down," Elladan promised.

"I will have you as rabbit stew unless you shut up!" Harry barked without turning back, while raising a hand threateningly. "Interesting, Arantur is not at the battlefield."

"He must be hiding behind the impregnable fortifications of Fornost," James said furiously. "If only we knew of his true intentions when he first entered the city with his escort, we could have used the city's defences against him."

Harry had learnt how Arantur had come in the pretence of desiring to behold the shining new city of Arnor whilst waiting for the assassination to take place. When Elya was dead, he had struck fast, with his men taking over the citadel and killing those who were loyal to Elya and James. The boy had escaped with the help of a loyal servant and the dwarves, who had sneaked him out through underground tunnels that Harry had commissioned them to build, which no one except the dwarves, Harry and Elya were aware of. And now James.

Harry turned to look at Glorindel. "Can you lead this attack, old friend? The opportunity is simply too good to take back Fornost with minimal bloodshed, given the bulk of Arantur's troops are out here." He also suspected Arantur was the mastermind behind everything and greatly desired to see him alone and in private.

"Certainly," said Glorfindel. "Once you give us the signal, I will lead the company."

"You cannot go to Fornost by yourself, father!" James said vehemently. "The city's defences are mighty."

Harry paused for a moment, realising that was the first time his son had called him father. He relished it for a few moments. "I designed and built those defences," he said. "They mean nothing to me. You, my son, must focus on winning this battle up ahead." He raised his hand. "And looks like it is time…" He nodded at Glorfindel. "Now!"

"With me!" Glorfindel shouted loudly, as Hedwig spread her wings and soared to the sky.

Harry watched the company of eight fly to battle and then turned his gaze southwards. The next moment he transformed into a griffin and let out a mighty roar that was magnified by magic and could be heard for miles and filled the enemy soldiers in the battlefield with dread and horror. They all knew the lion was the sigil of the House of Harald Gryffindor and the roar of a lion just as they walked into battle was a very ominous sign.

Harry flew south to Fornost. As he flew over it, he was deeply saddened. His once glorious town looked in very poor shape. Slums had come up where there once were gardens and golden groves of mallorn trees. Many homes were in shambles, poverty was rampant, the market looked like a sprawling mess, and the ring of physicians' clinics, schools and guild halls looked rather deserted and forlorn. Harry landed on the terrace of the palace, walking to the edge where the people could see him. He raised his head, extended his wings and let out another mighty roar. Slowly, the people walked out of their houses and shops and looked up. He stayed there for several minutes. It was important that the people realised what was happening.

Harald Gryffindor was claiming the town back.

He felt heartened when he heard the cheers from the people; clearly they were welcoming him back despite the fact his absence had caused them such grief and hardship. He turned around and saw dozens of armoured wardens rush towards him, wielding spears and halberds and other kinds of pole weapons, best suited for fighting a lion. Harry transformed back into human. "Incendio," he muttered, burning the wooden poles.

Several guards took out pairs of throwing knives and hurled them at Harry. He raised both hands and all knives transformed into wood and were incinerated even before they reached halfway between them.

Harry cleared his throat. "I will give one chance to you if you wish to forsake the House of Arantur and renew your loyalty to the House of Harald." He waited while some of the guards wavered. But then one of them yelled a battle-cry and then all of them ran towards Harry with swords. Harry raised his hand again and the first man levitated from the terrace floor several feet up in the air. Harry then flung his hand to one side and the man was banished in that direction beyond the terrace and he screamed in fear and horror as he fell down seven storeys to his death.

The fate of the man they had followed stunned the rest of them and they faltered in their charge. Harry waved his hands and two invisible forces pushed the guards to each side and they were flung aside, clearing the way for Harry to walk inside.

As he made his way down, more guards tried to stop his progress and he dealt with them without any problems and walked into the hall where Arantur was sitting on the throne once occupied by his sweet wife.

"Stop him!" the frail and sickly Arantur yelled. "Stop the freak!"

"Freak, am I?" Harry said coldly, staring at the mastermind behind his wife's ordeals and the basilisk roared inside him. "I'll show you just how much of a freak I truly am." He raised a hand. "Crucio."

The screams of the grandson of Isildur shocked everyone in the court. In fact, the screams could be heard well into the town as well and many men and women made signs to ward off whatever evil was taking place in the castle.

Harry savoured the pain for nearly a minute before releasing the curse. "Did you plan the assassination of Princess Elya?" he demanded. "Answer me truthfully and I will free you."

"Y-Yes," Arantur gasped out as he coughed blood. "But it wasn't my idea… Ciryatir… he wanted the Sceptre of Annuminas… He is the true usurper."

"And yet," Harry waved his hand around to show where they were, "it is you who sits on Elya's throne and rules over her court."

Arantur coughed more blood. "I had to do it… or else he would have killed me too."

"Who all were involved in the plan to kill her?" demanded Harry. "I want names from the highest prince to the lowest servant."

"Yes, yes," Arantur said hurriedly. "I will give you every single name… please, please let me go."

"I will free you once I have the list," Harry repeated. He turned to one of the men sitting in the court, who looked more relieved than terrified. "I know you."

"Lord Harald," the man stood up and knelt. "I am Gawin. As a lad, I learnt from you how to take care of the great winged-horses." In a proud voice, he added, "I also helped Prince James escape the castle to those who could take him to safety before these dogs could kill him."

"Traitor!" someone sitting closer to Arantur yelled before he could stop himself.

"You will find that it is you who is the real traitor," said Harry, and he swept his hand and the man who had shouted was flung to the wall and impaled on a hanging spear. The moment that happened everyone in the court leapt out of their seats and started rushing towards the door. Harry snapped his fingers and the great doors shut immediately. "No one leaves until I say you can. I am Harald Gryffindor, the Founder of Fornost and this is my court." He turned to Gawin. "Tell me, Gawin, why do I find a loyal friend within a nest of vipers?"

"Sire," the man stood up and walked towards Harry. Hesitating, he took something out of robes and kneeling before Harry, presented it to him. "A token of Princess Elya's belief in my unwavering loyalty."

Harry saw the mithril necklace he had given his love when he had been courting her; the very necklace King Durin had given him when he first met the dwarf. He took it slowly and held it to his chest. "Continue."

"On her deathbed, the princess had charged me with two tasks," he said. "First, to deliver the young prince safely at a specific location so other allies could take him to safety. Second, to become a scorpion amongst the vipers and do what I could to undermine their efforts at undoing everything you and she had worked towards."

Harry realised it then. "The Abraxans," he said. "You were instrumental in their escape."

"I couldn't save them all," the man looked saddened. "I did what I could to save the foals."

"You have my gratitude," said Harry. "Please see the list this scum has made and tell me if you think it is correct."

Gawin walked up the dais and snatched the list from Arantur, who had suddenly turned very pale. "Sire, this list contains many names of those who have voiced outrage at the treatment of Prince Eldacar and Princess Elya. He seeks to make you go after friends and allies."

"I see once wasn't enough," said Harry. "Crucio." This time he left it just a bit longer.

"I will tell you," Arantur rasped out. He opened his mouth but before he could say another word, one of the advisors sitting closest to him flung a throwing knife at him. Harry raised his hand and the knife changed directions and flew back and killed the one who had thrown it.

"I tire of this. Legilimens." Harry spent several minutes pouring into the treacherous man's mind to fully understand the plot against his wife and father-in-law and the names of those involved. His eyes blazed with fury when he realised something so horrible his Legilimency faltered. "You paid the assassin to rape her?"

Arantur kept his head lowered, not out of shame but out of fear for what the angry sorcerer would do to him. "That wasn't my idea," he said. "I protested against one of our blood being so defiled. You saw it in my mind."

"I suppose so," said Harry. He had seen the man who had suggested it; Beleg, the one who had even fooled Harry into believing he was on their side. The man who was fighting beside Eldacar and planned to betray him in the middle of battle. The viper in sheep's skin.

"You said you would free me," said Arantur. "You have all the information you need from me. Now, keep your word and free me."

"Yes, I recall saying that," said Harry. "Very well then. I free you… from your sins and your life." He swiped his hand in a quick motion, screaming, "Avada Kedavra." A flash of green light covered the room and the man fell dead. Ignoring the shell-shocked silence in the court, Harry walked towards the dais. He stepped on the corpse and walked over it to sit on the throne. He looked at the stunned court. "Why so tense? After all, you have already once accepted the murderer of your ruler before, you should now be used to this." In a louder voice, he shouted, "Take your seats. Now." He waited patiently for everyone to take their seats. "Gawin, I will call out a few names now. If any of them are present here, please point them out to me."

Harry proceeded to list out the names he had stolen from Arantur's mind of those who had been aware of the plot to murder Elya or had supported it in any other manner. When a name was stated of someone in the court, Gawin would point to that person and Harry would deal with them in a manner befitting their role. Those who had been bribed to turn a blind eye were made blind in return, those who had supported Arantur's faction when they revealed their true colours were beheaded, and those who had been aware of the plot and had actively participated it in any manner were crucified in public.

With a massively depleted court, Harry turned to Gawin. "Find those who you think may still be loyal to me." When the man looked at him uncertainly, Harry sighed. "Speak."

"Sire, after what we saw in the court today, we are all terrified of you, but I am not sure fear and loyalty are made of the same ilk," said the man. "I will follow you for I remember a better time when Fornost was a happy place… but I fear…"

"What do you fear?" asked Harry. "That I will kill you for the smallest transgression and torture you for every word that displeases me?"

The man hesitated. "If this honesty costs me my life, so be it. I owe it to the memory of the man I admired to tell you so. That is indeed what I fear, that we replace one corrupt tyrant with a ruthless one." He hung his head low, as if expecting to be punished.

Harry leaned back on the throne and closed his eyes. The anger and hate had made him lose control over his actions. The curses he had used were addictive, he knew that, and fuelled by dark desires, something he had given in to. A memory suddenly rose in his mind of a conversation with Cirdan the Shipwright.

"_How will I avoid falling into the abyss? How can I stop myself from turning dark?"_

"_You will overcome the dark because of your love for the brilliant light."_

But his love had been snatched away from him. The light had faded and Harry had stared into the abyss. And it was strangely very enticing. His fingers itched to curse Gawin, who dared speak to him in such manner.

Suddenly, Harry stood up and walked out of the court without another word. He followed the once familiar path to the keep and walked up the tower to where the palantir was kept. He knew he had done great evil that day. He didn't count the guards, for they had tried to kill him and he acted in self-defence. He didn't even count killing Arantur – that was just vengeance. But the torture… was that necessary? Did he have to use the Cruciatus Curse? Did he have to crucify so many people instead of giving them a swift death? Could he not have shown mercy, in the name of Elya?

He stared at the palantir, fully aware he needed help and guidance. Dark magic was addictive and corrupting and he had relished its taste more than he had ever believed he would, despite being strong in Occlumency. But he wasn't sure who to approach. His initial thought was Lord Elrond, but he wasn't sure he could take the look of condemnation from the one who had taken him in the day he had first stepped into Middle Earth. He couldn't stomach the idea of seeing the disappointment in Elrond's face. Lady Galadriel would be more understanding. She was not unfamiliar with acts of evil done in vengeance and retribution. But for some reason, Harry did not wish to approach her in such a state of vulnerability. Cirdan was a sensible option, but the Shipwright though wise and experienced did not know Harry well enough. And then the answer was so simple, Harry was surprised it took him so long to realise it. The only question was could he use the palantir to communicate with someone who didn't possess a ring of power.

"Perhaps, if I use my magic to power it as well," he mused, grabbing the palantir and plunging into it with his mind and magic. "Lady Celebrian." She knew him better than any other but also she held for him a mother's love, one which he hoped fervently would survive the test of knowing what he had done.

The next moment Harry found himself in the presence of Lady Celebrian, who was wandering with a younger female elf in the garden. His appearance caused quite a stir. He wasn't fully there, no, he was only a pale whitish shade, a hologram that couldn't touch or feel anything but could see and hear everything.

Celebrian looked at his troubled face with concern. "Harry, what ails you so?"

Harry knelt next to her. "I am lost in a darkness of my own making, my lady, and seek counsel to guide me back to the light," he whispered in a hoarse and broken voice.

"Oh, I have known you since you were so little, my sweet Harry," she said tenderly. "Wherever you went, you left a trail of smiles and happiness without even trying or realising it. Whatever is going on, whatever it is you have done, that light is still part of you. All you have to do is to look within and bring it back into the open."

"I look within and all I find is a swamp of filth," said Harry. "I have lost loved ones and caused much pain and suffering to others. I have killed and tortured for no better reason than vengeance. Surely, you will agree that no light is left within me?"

"But there is," said someone, and Harry turned to the younger elf. He hadn't looked at her properly yet but figured that was Arwen. There was something about her smile that instantly uplifted Harry's heart. While elves were generally quite attractive, Arwen was, even at her young age, shining with a radiant beauty that outshone every other person he had seen before. "When faced with darkness, you reached out to one you love and have been embraced with love in return. There is no light brighter than that." She raised her hand and reached forward and, a few moments later, Harry also reached forward with a weak smile, even though the contact wouldn't be physically felt by either one.

"Arwen speaks with greater wisdom than even I could summon right now," Elrond's voice came from behind and Harry turned around and bowed. "While it is good to see you, the magic you are doing to rip through space and appear before us is giving me a terrible headache. If you would like my honest advice, then finish whatever is going on over there and come back home. It's been too long."

"My lord," Harry nodded. He turned to Celebrian. "My lady." Finally, he turned to Arwen and smiled. "Lady Arwen, thank you. The wisdom of your parents, which has evaded your brothers, has surely come straight to you. I look forward to meeting you in person."

"As do I, Galen-Galad," said Arwen, looking at him playfully. "Also, you should know I have a bet with my brothers that you will transform them into piglets before you return to Imladris. If I win, they have to wear female elven dresses for an entire day."

"Arwen," Elrond said disapprovingly, although his lips were twitching with amusement.

"My dear Arwen," Harry said very seriously, "this might be the start of a great alliance."

* * *

Having appointed Gawin as regent in his stead, Harry flew back towards the battlefield. The airborne company was attacking the enemy army's rear and flank while Eldacar pressed on to the middle. Unbeknownst to Eldacar, Harry noticed Beleg had fallen behind with a layer of his men, so that when he finally revealed his true colours, Eldacar would be trapped between enemies with no escape route. In fact, if Harry could read anything into battle strategies, Beleg had to do it within minutes or else lose the advantage.

He wasn't mistaken. The moment Eldacar was completely trapped, Beleg gave a signal to his men and they started attacking Eldacar from the rear. All in all, that was a great strategy. Ciryatar lost a significant part of his enemy but that was clearly a price they were willing to pay in order to get Eldacar. Once the prince was dead, the battle would end, since Ciryatar's claim to Arnor would be unchallenged.

Harry raised his hand. "Incendio," he said calmly, and a ring of fire came around Eldacar and his small loyal faction, protecting them from the surrounding enemy. Meanwhile, seeing his grandfather trapped, James had led the rangers to his aid and was already clearing an escape route.

"What took you so long?" Glorfindel landed beside him. "The day is nearly over."

"Remember our trip to the Grey Havens?" Harry said. "Cirdan had hinted a day would come when I would stare into the abyss and risk falling into it. That was today. I stared and I fell."

Glorfindel looked at him in silence.

Harry changed the topic. "Their strategy to aim straight for the head of the army has merit," he said. "I am tired. I want this finished." He was tired emotionally and also physically, for he had already performed far too much magic during the day. But there was still enough strength. He focused hard and raised both hands and shouted, "Accio Ciryatar. Accio Beleg." The battle stopped and everyone stared in shock as the leaders of one side flew involuntarily towards a hillock in the distance.

When the two stumbled in front of Harry in shock and alarm, Harry raised his hand again and they were tied up in ropes. "You paid to have my wife raped and killed," he said in a monotone voice.

"That whore deserved it," Beleg spat in disgust. "And you are the one to blame for all this… if she had chosen someone proper, someone of noble descent, then perhaps she would still be alive."

Glorfindel spat with disgust. "So, this is what the line of Elros has reduced to."

"What would you know about our great and noble ancestor, elf?" Ciryatar snarled.

"I stood beside Lord Elros in the War of Wrath as we fought the evil hosts of the dark lord Morgoth to whom Sauron the Terrible was a mere servant. We were brothers in arms and knew each other's heart and mind well," said Glorfindel, with power lacing through his voice. "I also stood beside your ancestors in the War of the Last Alliance; tall Elendil and brave Isildur, who faced the iron mace of Sauron without flinching. They led their men into battles, and not cowering behind them. I know more about your ancestors than you do, human."

Harry paused, looking at Glorfindel silently. It was easy for him to forget that the elf who had become his closest friend had lived thousands of years more than him.

Soon, the rangers led by James and the twins joined him. One of the rangers had given Prince Eldacar a lift as well. Once again, the prince refused to look at Harry.

"The usurpers have been apprehended, your majesty," Harry said, also staring straight ahead instead of at the prince. "You may do as you please with them. But know this that it was Beleg who was most responsible for Elya's suffering. From them, you can find the identity of the assassin as well."

"So, you will leave it to me then?" Eldacar said coldly. "No desire for vengeance on those who killed your wife?"

For a moment, Harry felt a sudden urge to place the two men in front of him under the Cruciatus Curse and then that need also extended to curse Eldacar for his words and implication that Harry didn't care about Elya. He closed his eyes and pictured Celebriant's kind and concerned face and Arwen's brilliant smile and then suddenly, that need to torture vanished.

"Enough bloodshed and torture has been done by my hands today in Fornost," said Harry, sounding tired. "My magic is exhausted and my spirit is in mourning, for only a day has passed since I learnt of my sweet Elya's passing. I will camp with the elves tonight and await your orders in the morning." He turned to the twins and Elladan quickly got out of his hippogriff and joined his twin brother.

"Dan is at your command, Harry," Elladan said solemnly.

Harry smiled as he walked to the hippogriff. "Thank you. Just for that, I shan't be transforming you into rabbits tonight." As he climbed on the hippogriff, he couldn't resist adding, "But I didn't say anything about piglets, did I? I quite fancy roast hog." He flew away but not before getting a good look of the twins' faces.

Later that night, Glorfindel was singing an old elvish song by the fire, while Harry was making shapes on the fire depicting the various scenes from Glorfindel's song. The twins were reclined against a tree trunk and listening to the song and watching the shapes. That was how James son of Harald found them.

"That was a beautiful song," James murmured when Glorfindel finished. "I didn't understand the words but if the images represented the song, then I take it you were singing about some famous seafarer."

"Earendil the Mariner," said Harry. "The ancestor you share in common with the twins, father of Elros and Elrond. Someday, remind me to teach you Sindarin."

"Father," James hesitated and looked deeply troubled. "I don't know how to say this…"

"Be direct and speak without fear or hesitation," Harry told him. "Like a true Gryffindor."

"Grandfather has banished you from Arnor," James continued. "I tried to reason with him but he would only reduce the punishment so that the banishment shall last until his reign has ended."

"I see," Harry said simply. "I will, of course, obey the king's wishes. I trust he wouldn't mind if I make my way out of his realm at dawn instead of tonight."

James nodded. "Of course," he said. "Seeing you stirred up memories for him."

"You are staying in Arnor, I assume?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering. He knew there was no reason why he should expect anything different but a father could hope.

"I must," said James. "I have a sacred duty to stay here for I am grandfather's last surviving heir." He hesitated. "But I have been given permission to escort you to the border. I – I was hoping you would prefer walking instead of flying and perhaps with a detour through Bree."

Harry smiled at his son. "Most certainly," he said. "Tell me, did anything used to happen when you were young? Things blowing up, or changing colours unexpectedly, you know, unusual things?"

The boy shook his head. "I know why you ask. The Hat said I was a Metamorphmagus but I was also a squib. He taught me how to control the shape-shifting ability," he said. "I hope you aren't disappointed I do not have magic."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Harry. "I am very proud of the man you have grown up to be and I again apologise for not being around. That is a regret I will carry for all eternity." Quite literally, he added in his mind. "But it's good to know the Hat was around to teach you about our heritage. Where is that barmy old headpiece anyway?"

"Gone," James whispered. "They burnt it."

Once again, Harry felt a profound sense of loss. The Hat had been as a companion to him for so long that he had come to expect it would be with him throughout his long immortal journey. To hear that it was gone was another severe blow to him. But seeing the boy's guilty expression and recalling how in his youth Harry would blame himself for everything that went wrong, he forced a smile. "It was just a hat," he said. "I guess I will just have to make a new one."

"Can you make a new one?" the boy suddenly asked in surprise. "I thought he was from your old life."

Harry shrugged. "It was made of magic, something your father is quite good at, in case you hadn't noticed."

"What happened?" the boy asked him suddenly in a pained voice. "Why did you leave? Why did you not come back?"

Harry cast his thought back to those days. "Hubris," he finally admitted. "I was drunk and consumed by my own strength and power. I believed my magic gave me the right to challenge the rightful order of life and death. I sought to create an artefact that could keep death at bay and make an ordinary human immortal."

James took only a couple of seconds to realise it. "You wanted this for mother."

"Of course," said Harry. "I loved her so much… I still do." He felt his eyes well up again. "It hurts to live with the knowledge that she suffered so much because I wasn't with her."

"She knew," said James. "Regardless of whatever harsh words grandfather or I said to her about you, she never stopped loving you and never once did she lose faith. Once, she even slapped grandfather for saying something nasty about you running away with another woman. She said they should all feel blessed and privileged to have had you in their lives, however brief that time was."

"Do you know what the most agonising thing is?" asked Harry when the silence lingered on, with a self-deprecating laugh. "I succeeded in my quest. I now have the ability to make this device to grant long life to a mortal but with absolutely no need for it. You wouldn't happen to desire immortality, would you?"

James shook his head. "I have the long lifespan of my grandfather's line and that is more than what I would like anyway."

"Wise decision," said Harry, suddenly foreseeing the day that would come not so far ahead in the future when even his son would grow old and pass away, while he would linger on.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Harry embraced his son. "This is where we must part ways," he said at the edge of the Last Bridge over River Mitheithel which marked the border of Arnor. "It would give me great joy if you come and visit us in Rivendell when things in Arnor have settled a bit." He looked at his son. "Be courageous, especially when you are afraid. Be kind, even to those who do not deserve it, unlike your father. Above all else, be true to yourself."

"I promise, father," said James, and he stood by and waved while Harry carried on walking. The elves had flown ahead on their hippogriffs, giving father and son a few weeks of getting to know each other better while they travelled across Arnor, and they had made the most of that time.

Instead of taking the Great East Road to the Ford of Bruinen, Harry took a slight detour through the Trollshaws, upland woods, consisting of partly beech trees, that lay to the west of Rivendell between the rivers Mitheithel and Bruinen. Trolls often roamed those lands and terrorized any trespassers that dared go near them and that was precisely why Harry took that route. He wanted the privacy and solitude; and trolls - well, he had been dealing with since he was 11.

He made a solemn oath. "Here, I shall mourn Elya for a year as I promised or longer, until I quell this darkness within me and rediscover the light." He walked inside, inhaling the forest air, paying no heed to the foreboding air around him that was created by decades of trolls inhabiting the woods. His was a darkness far surpassing the simple animal nature of the trolls.

Harry found a suitable place next to an old beech tree and dug a deep hole. He placed Elya's mithril necklace that Gawin had returned to him and covered the hole. On top of it, he placed a chunk of mithril and shaped it using his magic to create a beautiful shrine. He carved the words:

_In memory of Princess E__lya. _

_Even in death, we are part of __the Great Music._

And then he lit a fire inside the shrine in commemoration of Elya's spirit.

Every morning, he would relight the fire and spend an hour by the shrine, remembering the fond memories of his time with Elya and pouring them as protective magic into the shrine. During the daytime, he would wander around the forest, keeping his mind still and simply living in the moment. So attuned was he to nature, that the creatures of the forest paid no heed to him but every time he saw an injured or hungry animal, he would use his magic to help them. When trolls attacked the innocent animals, he would kill the trolls, not out of bloodlust or anger or hate but as part of his self-anointed duty as protector of the forest. One unknown consequence of Harry's magic and mourning was that it gave birth to Wood Nymphs, tree spirits born out of a wizard pouring his soul and magic into protecting forests, like Patroni, but bound to the forest and not to Harry. As the week rolled by, the first Wood Nymph was born and it cared for naught but to protect its tree, except that it joined Harry every morning when he mourned Elya. Soon after, others were born and followed the same pattern as that first one, and the longer they stayed with Harry, the more they evolved from guardians of a single tree to protectors of the entire forest. Before Harry knew it, he no longer needed to do anything to protect the innocent animals of the forests from the trolls; the dryads were ever vigilant and defended the forest valiantly against the trolls.

Harry's mourning didn't go entirely unnoticed. One day, while he sat by the shrine to Elya, he felt a presence behind him and saw a very tall woman wearing grey robes, with a grey hood covering her head. As she walked closer, Harry saw there were tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Who are you?" Harry asked in wonder, feeling a warm and powerful presence from her, far surpassing anything he had felt even from Lady Galadriel. "Why do you weep for Elya?"

"I weep not for the dead, for they are beyond all grief and suffering," she said in a soft voice. "I weep for you, child, and the rest of the living, who must live in pain and misery."

As she spoke, Harry felt a wave of familiarity. He knew her, of course, for he had heard her theme in the Great Music. It was one of sadness. Harry stood up and bowed. "Lady Nienna," he whispered in awe. "I am indeed blessed to be graced by your presence."

"My brother Namo is not the only theme affected by your arrival here," she said. "Nor am I the only other."

"Then, who else is it that is affected by me?" asked Harry.

"You must try and remember," said Nienna. "For you have heard the music as well." She walked to the shrine and sat next to it.

"I cannot remember," said Harry. "I try but it is like a dream that eludes my waking thoughts."

"This is a beautiful and peaceful place." Nienna mourned in silence. Then, she turned to him. "You have felt the darkness."

"I know," Harry said. "I seek redemption but I fear it might be beyond me."

She smiled sadly. "I believe that is a theme better known to me than you. Even Melkor was worthy of forgiveness after the Marring of Arda." She reached forward and touched his cheek and Harry felt a warmth inside him – the same feeling he had experienced when Arwen had smiled at him. "Do you not feel it, the fire within the abyss? Your soul was forever altered as a child before you were sent here. You did not fall into the abyss, child, for you carry the abyss within you."

"Your words frighten me."

"They should, and that is why you must remember what you saw in the Great Music," said Nienna.

"Then, there is no hope for me to redeem myself?"

Nienna stood up. "Look around you, child. You have brought new life into this forest. The trees breathe and mourn with you. You may carry the abyss, but you also carry the Flame Imperishable within you. Even when you descend into the abyss, you need not falter in darkness."

"But I already have," Harry protested.

"Did you falter?" asked Nienna. "Or did you stop yourself when others who had gone as far would have lost themselves completely. Did you not turn back with a desperate desire to return to the light?"

Harry remained silent, troubled by his thoughts.

"You have mourned enough," she continued. "Yours is a song that touches my theme but it also touches happiness and light. Go now; let me be the one who continues shedding tears."

"I am not ready yet," said Harry. In a lighter tone, he joked, "Besides, who'll keep relighting the fire in the shrine, if I leave?"

"So be it," she said in a deep voice that resounded all around them. "Seek within you the Flame Imperishable and create a fire that shall never die, and when you have succeeded in finding that light, your mourning _must _come to an end."

Harry looked at her in surprise. "You mean Gubraithian fire?" he asked. "I'm not sure I can do that."

"The power is in your spirit and the knowledge is in your mind. What more do you need?" The Vala stood up to leave. "Nowhere beyond the Halls of Nienna have my tears fallen before. Henceforth, this place shall be called Redeemer's Woods. Those who come to this shrine and seek forgiveness for their sins shall receive it and their troubled souls will be lightened." She leaned forward and kissed Harry's forehead. "Beginning with you, Harry Potter."

Even as her lips touched his forehead, Harry felt his heart lighten. How could he not, when a Vala embraced him? He felt his troubles vanish and his soul felt uplifted. After a very long time, he felt it again. The phoenix song inside him was finally as loud as the basilisk's coldness.

Harry looked at the Vala curiously. "What if someone comes here who doesn't deserve forgiveness?"

"Forgiveness is mine to give and I give it freely to all who ask for it and also to those who do not. It is each individual's own choice whether to accept it or not," said Nienna. "But if you do not want something so personal to you to be used freely, leave behind enchantments so that only the truly repentant will ever find this shrine. This is, after all, a place of your making, not mine."

And then, she vanished.

Harry set to work after the Vala had departed. He surrounded the shrine with powerful wards with intent-based enchantments. He charged the Wood Nymphs with the task of enchanting those who tried to locate the shrine and lure them away; only one who truly desired repentance and forgiveness would be able to overcome the temptation of the supernatural nymphs. And the final layer of protection was a bog mist that was enchanted to induce hallucinations of a person's greatest fears, only those who were true of heart, steadfast in determination and able to overcome temptations and willing to face their greatest fears would reach the shrine.

And then he sat down and stared at the shrine. Amongst his many regrets, Harry regretted not taking the Sorting Hat with him on his hubris-filled trip to the Old Forest. The Hat had been his last connection to the life he had left behind and contained a wealth of knowledge that Harry had barely only scratched its surface but more importantly, the Hat had been a teacher, guide and friend to him through the years. Many a time when he hunted orcs with the twins, the Hat would whisper in his mind anything his own consciousness missed but was picked up by the Hat that tapped into his subconscious. And despite the loss of Elya hurt so hard, he also felt grief for the loss of the Hat. But he was glad that his son had the Hat to guide him during his early childhood - James' control with his Metamorphmagus ability was tremendous and Harry had no doubt that the Hat had a lot to do with it.

"Right then," he mused quietly, "what had the Hat said about Gubraithian fire?"

* * *

Many months later, Harry crossed the Ford of Bruinen and made his way towards Rivendell. While he was still saddened by the loss of Elya, his grief was no longer consuming him completely. He started humming to himself as he walked, a childlike tune not unlike the merry rhymes preferred by Tom Bombadil as opposed to any deep and meaningful elvish song. He wasn't surprised when he saw the preparations for the feast in Elrond's house, who must have been alerted to Harry's arrival the moment he crossed the Bruinen.

"You are late," Glorfindel had come out to greet him at the entrance.

"Does that mean the twins have finished all the wine?" Harry joked.

"There is plenty left. The twins have been in hiding, since today is the day Lady Arwen chose them to wear female dresses."

Harry let out a laugh. "Let us not tarry then." He clasped his friend's arm. "It's good to be back."

"Your eyes are filled with cheer," Glorfindel remarked. "I am pleased you have found peace since I last saw you."

"I have indeed," said Harry, "as will anyone who truly seeks it should they come upon Elya's shrine in Redeemer's Woods, formerly known as Trollshaws."

"What is this then?" asked Elrond who had also stepped out. "I did feel some great and wonderful power at work not far from Rivendell but it was far beyond my comprehension even with the power of the ring I wield."

Harry bowed. "My lord, forgive me for the long years of absence and my delay in returning since your summons," he said, before telling him briefly of Lady Nienna's visitation.

"A Vala came to Middle Earth," Elrond was greatly surprised. "That in itself is a momentous occasion but the great gift bestowed upon us by Lady Nienna is beyond anything we could have hoped for. Is this a place I will be permitted to enter?"

Harry suddenly regretted the very strong enchantments he had placed. "If you come with me," he said. "Otherwise, only someone who greatly regrets something and desperately seeks forgiveness will be able to find the shrine."

"I have such regret," said Elrond. "I allowed Isildur to keep the One Ring and that burden has only ever gotten heavier since then for the darkness that was allowed to endure. Perhaps, I should make a trip to Redeemer's Woods." He gestured towards the hall. "Your arrival is much anticipated and your friends are waiting for you."

Harry walked in and was greatly rejoiced to see his old friends. He clasped arms with many, embraced a few and shared many a laugh and joke with the rest. Lindir even greeted him with a light and mirthful song retelling the tale of Gabilion the human child who got drunk on dwarven mead and started jumping on tables and tugging the beards of dwarves and challenging them to roar like lions. While occupied with his old friends, Harry's gaze kept falling to the front of the hall where Lady Celebrian and Lady Arwen sat with a few of their companions, and every time he looked towards them, Arwen would catch his gaze and smile at him. And every time he looked at her, he felt himself sinking deeper within her bright eyes, which held the light of stars, grey as a cloudless night. Her dark hair was in braids, her beautiful face was flawless and smooth, and she outshone all the others who sat around her.

He tried to ignore her. It was still too soon, he told himself, despite almost the two years he had spent in Redeemer's Woods, he felt like he was being unfaithful to the memory of Elya. But then he would recall his promise to his late wife that he wouldn't shut himself from the chance of happiness and love after her. He shook his head. No, this was a mere infatuation, he decided, for someone who had gone long without sharing a bed with a maiden. But a small part of him disagreed for every time he glanced at her, he couldn't stop thinking how the entire universe seemed to dim before the shining brightness of Arwen.

Eventually, Harry made his way to them. "My ladies," he greeted with a smile. "Lady Arwen, it is good to finally meet you in person."

"Isn't it considered gallant for a man to take a maiden's hand and kiss it, or are you not a gallant man, Galen-Galad?" she teased.

"Alas, chivalry is lost on me," said Harry. "But I would never miss an opportunity to kiss the hand of a beautiful maiden." He took her hand and gently kissed it, making her blush. He enjoyed turning the tables on her, despite the whistles and playful taunts from the elves sitting nearby. He turned to Lady Celebrian, almost dreading a look of disapproval on her face, but instead, she was looking at him kindly with a knowing smile.

Later that night, when the feast was finished, Harry stepped out into the gardens and breathed peacefully the night air of Rivendell. Fornost had become home but now it was his son's domain and there was simply too much pain for him back there. However, Rivendell was his first home and would always hold a special place in his heart.

"Should you up so late, my lady?" Harry asked quietly when he saw Arwen was also outside sitting on a bench and looking at the sky with a look of happiness and content.

She turned to him and smiled brightly. "The night sky is beautiful tonight," she said. "Come, Galen-Galad, sit with me and let us observe the dance of stars."

With his heart pounding in his chest, Harry joined the elf and sat next to her. "It is indeed a beautiful night," he whispered. "But the brightest star is not up there in the sky but right here beside me."

Arwen turned to him with a gentle laugh. "Does that line work every time you use it?"

"I have never used it before," Harry said solemnly.

"Well, that is a shame," she said. "Perhaps, you should use it more often. I am sure it would work on some of the other elves here."

"But not on you," Harry added curiously.

"I barely know you," she said. "I know of you, certainly, but only through the eyes of my brothers and parents. To them, you are family. How can I see you as anything other than that?"

Harry stood up as he realised his sudden rush of feelings were not being reciprocated. She saw him as a brother, the same as the twins. "I have been inappropriate," he said solemnly. "Please excuse my behaviour and me, for I must return to my chamber."

Arwen's smile faltered and she looked at him with a troubled look as he walked away.

The next morning Harry was summoned into Lord Elrond's council room and saw a small group was present, and to his surprise, it didn't only comprise of elves. There were three elves from Rivendell; Elrond, his Chief Councillor Erestor and Glorfindel. With them were Legolas son of Thranduil from the Woodland Realm and three men. These men were unlike the humans of Arnor, and were wilder in appearance with reddish-brown hair.

"Lord Galen-Galad," Legolas stood up and walked closer to clasp Harry's hand. "It is good to see you again."

"And you, Prince Legolas," said Harry. "I trust your father is well."

"Very well," said Legolas. "He takes great delight in the hippogriff herd of the Woodland Realm, which now has over a dozen magnificent hippogriffs."

Lord Elrond cleared his throat and Harry turned to him. "These are Elgar, Brandin and Rolph, chieftains of three sizeable clans of Northmen." He then introduced Harry. "This is Harry, my ward, and a man of much greater skill than me. I have no doubt he will be able to and most willing to assist you."

Harry raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Legolas escorted our three guests to Rivendell with a request that we help them find an alternate dwelling place," said Elrond. "It appears orcs have been growing in number in the north."

"They raid and pillage our clans," Brandin said vehemently. "They slaughter our cattle, kill our people and burn our homes." His eyes were haunted. "We fight back, but we are weak and outnumbered. We tried to parlay but they care not for anything but pillage and plunder." He looked at the other two men. "A clansmoot was held and the leaders of all seven clans decided to leave our ancestral homes and move away from the reach of the orcs."

"At first, we had decided to cross the Greenwood and make settlements to the east near the Lonely Mountain," said Elgar. "But the elves warned us of violent easterlings. Four of the clans heeded not the warnings, preferring to face human foes over orcs, but the three of us are willing to seek further counsel."

"If there is an alternative where we will get to live in peace without having to fight orcs or humans from day to day, then that is the option we must provide for our people," said Rolph.

"Alas, while even a single orc survives, no elf or human would ever truly live in peace," said Erestor. "But there may be regions that are safer than Rhovanion, where your kin have decided to settle."

"Harry, do you have anything to add?"

Harry looked at the three chiefs. "How many are you in total?"

"Between the three clans, more than a thousand, but no more than two thousand," said Elgar. "We have lost many over the years."

"Would you consider living together as one people instead of separate tribes?" Harry asked. "United, you are stronger than if you stay separate."

The three chiefs looked at each other and then nodded. "We have discussed this before and are in agreement with you," said Brandin. "We had previously thought of living close to each other but perhaps it makes sense to become one large clan."

"I have two daughters," said Rolph. "Both of you have lost your wives. If you each take one of my daughter as a wife, the ties of kinship will make us one clan."

Elgar thought about it. "So be it," he said, while Brandin nodded. "But where will we go?"

"My father suggested the Vale of Anduin between the Misty Mountains and Greenwood," said Legolas. "But there is a risk the orcs will come further south east of the Misty Mountains, since the Northmen clans would have all departed."

"I have another suggestion," said Harry, looking at the map of Middle Earth that was sprawled before them. "Eregion was once home to a great kingdom and the land and climate is very pleasant. You would have the dwarves of Khazad Dum at your eastern border, the elves of Rivendell to the north and the kingdom of Arnor to the west." He showed the location in the map. "It will be a long journey for your people but you will bring them to a place that is safe and surrounded by potential allies."

"The idea is indeed with merit," said Elrond. "But the journey will be long, and once the clan reaches there, they will need to spend many long years building their settlements."

"If we are certain of peace, then I think it is worth it," said Rolph, looking at his two soon-to-be son-in-laws. "What say you?"

Before they could answer, Harry had more to say. "I can go ahead and request my dwarven friends to assist you in building a town. They won't build all of it but perhaps just enough for you to have a roof over your heads when you first arrive."

The three men looked at Harry with surprise and gratitude. "I speak for all of us when I say we are in your debt, Harry of Rivendell," said Rolph.

Harry glanced at Legolas. "I am surprised and quite heartened to see the elves of Greenwood taking an interest in their neighbours' problems."

Legolas nodded. "We normally would not have concerned ourselves with the affairs of men but my father has had a strange turn of heart in recent years. While he dare not open our lands to outsiders, he is still willing to provide what little aid that he can without risking our people or our safety. We have offered food, wine and now an audience with Lord Elrond, in the hope that he - or you - would be able to assist them further."

When the council was concluded, Elrond asked Harry to stay behind. "What moves you to leave Rivendell so soon after coming back? We have barely had a chance to talk in private."

Harry hesitated before answering, "I do not wish to lie to you and I dare not say the truth for fear of making you angry."

Elrond looked at Harry in silence for a few moments. "I see," he said finally, with an uncannily knowing look as if he knew something had happened between Harry and Arwen. "In any event, I insist you stay at least until Arwen's approaching 18th name-day before you leave. She would be most upset otherwise."

"I doubt that," said Harry, realising he had to explain to Elrond. "We spoke in private last night and I believe I might have made thinks awkward between us."

"I thought you had outgrown this silliness of blaming yourself for everything," Elrond said sharply. "You are far too old to act like a child, Harry. Do you know she used to beg me to tell her stories about you more than any other stories? She wanted to know more about the real you and not just the powerful sorcerer she heard about in the rather exaggerated stories from the twins. One awkward conversation is hardly going to change a lifetime of anticipation."

Harry was surprised to learn how much of an impact he truly had on his foster family.

"One such story was about this strange custom of giving presents on name-days," said Elrond. "And how you made it a point to give something to the twins on their 18th name-day."

Harry smiled. "I gave them quivers which were enchanted to duplicate arrows provided there was at least one of the holly-wood arrows inside. That was what made them decide they were old enough to go out orc-hunting."

"Yes, I remember that very well," said Elrond. "A few days earlier, before you arrived, the twins were teasing her and she retorted by saying that the present she would get from you on her 18th name-day would be far better than anything you ever gave them. When I took her to a side and told her it was not proper to expect so much, she laughed and said she wasn't expecting much and whatever you gave her, she would cherish it as if it were precious for it would mark the beginning of your friendship." He looked at Harry intently. "It would dishearten her tremendously should you completely disregard her and not even tarry a few weeks until her name-day."

Harry nodded gravely. "I understand," he said. "But it is difficult. I need the time to be away - to better understand my own heart. How can I be as a brother to her when I might be attracted to her in a completely different way?"

"Then be neither; just be a friend to her for now," said Elrond, and he left Harry with those words and a lot of soul-searching.

Elves didn't particularly celebrate birthdays, or at least, not in the same lavish fashion that humans did. That was quite understandable, considering they were immortal and birthdays stopped being meaningful after the first few hundred years. But Harry's influence had meant that at least one elven family still cared about birthdays; if not every birthday, then the milestone ones and 18 for some inexplicable reason was the first milestone birthday.

Arwen threw open the doors to Harry's chambers and stormed inside. "I heard you are leaving us in a few days."

Harry hastily threw his cloak over what he had been working on. "Doors are there for a reason!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, to be locked, and yours wasn't locked," she argued back as if that justified it. "But you're leaving… it's not because of… you know… what happened, is it? I didn't mean to be unkind to you."

Harry stood up and smiled at her. "Those people need help," he said. "I can help them."

She didn't press any further. "What were you working on?"

"Your name-day present," said Harry, and he felt a warmth inside him when her face lit up on hearing that, and once again, Harry was stunned by the brightness of her expression. There was something extraordinary about her and he didn't know what.

"Can I see it?" she asked excitedly.

"No," said Harry.

"Only one quick glance?" she looked at him with wide eyes.

"No," said Harry, turning away from her, fully aware he would cave in the longer he stared into her eyes.

"Can you give me a hint as to what it is?" she pleaded.

"No," said Harry.

"You're being annoying," Arwen complained.

"Yes," said Harry.

His eyes narrowed when Arwen tried to make a dash towards his worktable and he snapped his fingers. The next moment the beautiful elf transformed into a snowy owl. She flew around the room in alarm and made some strange noises but then she took control over the flight and with a happy chirp flew out of the window. "Crazy elf!" Harry cursed and raised his hand. "Accio Arwen," he summoned her back while transforming her into human.

In retrospect, that wasn't such a clever thing since he had a full grown elf in mid-air about to fall; he rushed ahead with his super speed and caught her in his arms. With his superior strength, Harry managed to catch her with ease. "Got you," he said.

"That was incredible!" Arwen declared, wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing her head forward against his as if to hug him the best she could, given he was holding her in both arms. Once again, Harry felt his heart pound within in his chest at the flowery scent of the dark-haired elf in his arms and the close contact between their bodies. He felt the heat rise up inside him and hastily pried her away and placed her back on the ground.

After a brief moment of awkwardness, Harry wriggled a finger at her pretending to reprimand her. "And that's why you should always do as I say," he said.

"But I loved it," she argued again. She suddenly had an idea. "If I keep annoying you, will you again turn me into an owl?"

"No," said Harry, smiling in amusement. "Go away," he said playfully, "do what other she-elves do for fun… other than annoying hard-working wizards. I need peace and quiet to finish this in time."

"Okay," she said, but she stopped at the door and looked back at him. "Thank you for not letting me fall."

"Always," Harry told her. "Now, go."

Her name-day was a simple affair. The family had gathered for a candlelit dinner underneath the stars in the garden and Harry observed fondly how his foster family had come even closer with the joyful presence of the youngest member.

"Now, before we start eating, I think someone has forgotten something very important," Arwen glared at Harry.

"Oh no," said Elladan, turning to Harry in alarm. "You haven't told her you decided not to finish it?"

"Oh dear," added Elrohir. "Harry, I told you to spend more time on her present than making new swords for us."

"You should run for your life," said Elladan. "She's going to be mad… or…"

"… she's going to cry," said Elrohir.

"They are just joking," Harry said quickly, when Arwen looked rather hurt at their words, and he realised Elrond was correct: had he simply left, she would have been devastated. He snapped his fingers to seal the twins' lips shut. Then, his hands trembled slightly as he took out a wooden box. As he handed it to her, he whispered, "Together with Elya's shrine, this is without doubt the most beautiful thing I have ever made."

Arwen looked at him with wide eyes and took the box, also with shaking hands. She opened it slowly and when a green light illuminated from within it, she gasped in amazement and pulled out a necklace. Other than Harry, everyone around the table was breath-taken by the sight of what Arwen was holding.

The necklace was an intricate piece made of pure mithril, one made by Harry himself, and even alone would have been a remarkable work and a gift worthy of a queen. But that was completely overshadowed by the ornament encrusted in front of it. It was a phoenix with its wings outstretched made out of a white stone the like of which no one had seen before. But even that wasn't the most fascinating thing about it. What was so marvellous about it was that inside the stone there was a green fire – flames dancing within the body of the phoenix pendant, giving a bright green glow that shone like a tiny green star on earth. But to Harry's eyes, the stone was the inferior of the two stars in front of him, for Arwen's face shone even brighter.

"It is so beautiful," she whispered. "What is it?"

"The stone was originally mirthil ore," said Harry. "There's a magical process that can purify any metal to its highest state. All base metals are transformed into gold. I used that process with mithril; instead of gold, I got this beautiful bright diamond-like stone. This is the first and only of its kind. The shape is that of a phoenix, an immortal firebird whose tears can heal a person even from the brink of death to perfect health. The green flames inside is the Flame Imperishable, pure fire that will never die. Not sure why it's green, but hey, it looks pretty."

Arwen's eyes widened in shock. "This is far too precious for me," she said while breathing rapidly.

Elrond reached for it and examined it in silence for a few moments. "I see the Secret Fire and the power of life and creation within it," Elrond said in a low voice, looking at the stone in a transfixed manner without blinking. "Ea!" His mouth was left open after that utterance and no one around the table fully understood the meaning of his sudden exclamation.

Celebrian was also stunned. "I was not aware you possessed the Flame Imperishable. This is more precious than even the Silmarils of old."

"I did not know either until Lady Nienna spoke to me a few months before I arrived in Rivendell," said Harry, and everyone other than Elrond was surprised by that revelation. "The phoenix which is the symbol of the pendant is a creature made of the Flame Imperishable and I have the essence of a phoenix inside me." Together with the basilisk which was a creature of the void, but he didn't mention that.

"I cannot take this," Arwen said in a troubled voice, but she was still holding on to it.

"Arwen," Harry said softly. "You helped me find the light within me when I was lost in darkness. Without you, I would have never been able to make this. This was made for you alone and no one else." He smiled at her gently. "Besides, the Secret Fire isn't just something that looks pretty, it has other purposes."

"What is that?" she asked.

"There are many dark things in this world that cannot stand to be near the Flame Imperishable," said Harry. "Whilst you wear this, no orc or troll will be able to come near you, but of course, they could still hurt you from a distance." He smiled at her again. "It is also a powerful magical focus. Repeat after me: Hoot."

"What?"

"Indulge me," said Harry. "Please."

"Hoot," said Arwen, and the next moment she transformed into a snowy owl. She hooted again in delight and soared up and flew in a loop around the table and then landed on Harry's shoulder.

Harry patted her head affectionately and rubbed her neck, recalling how Hedwig loved that and the owl crooned in delight. "Good girl," he said, picking up a piece of bread and she nibbled on it. But then she spat it out and pecked the side of Harry's head repeatedly. "Okay, okay, I'll tell you how to change back." She flew back to her seat but hovered just high enough to be able to see Harry. "Think very clearly in your mind: _mischief managed_."

"By Elbereth!" she exclaimed when she was back as a human. "Harry, this is incredible. Thank you, thank you so much." She walked to him and squeezed him in an embrace.

Harry patted her back awkwardly. Although he was enjoying the prolonged hug, he was also aware of the razor sharp scrutiny of Elrond. Then Arwen transformed back into an owl and flew to her seat and dropped down as a human.

"Thank you, Harry, for giving Arwen the wings to get into even more mischief," Celebrian said sarcastically.

"That's the third thing about it," said Harry. "The Secret Fire is part of my essence. There is nowhere in Middle Earth I wouldn't be able to find it… and the person who has it. So, young elf, if you decide to follow your brothers' footsteps and go orc-hunting tomorrow morning, be very aware that I will find you very fast." He glanced at Celebrian who smiled at him knowingly. She understood that this was his way of keeping her safe. So long as he could find her, he would do anything to keep Arwen safe. He then realised the twins were still unable to speak and were looking mutinous. "Oh, sorry boys, forgot about you two," he said, snapping his fingers and their lips unsealed.

Elladan turned to his brother with a woeful look. "Do you get the feeling we are no longer his favourites?"

"I am afraid so, dear brother," Elrohir sighed. "Is it because our faces aren't pretty enough?"

Harry raised his hand in a manner as if to snap his fingers and the twins grimaced quite painfully, expecting to be transformed into something unnatural but Harry simply lowered his hand and picked up his goblet of wine. "There's something wrong with your faces, boys. You should get it looked at."

"No, that's just how they were born," Arwen sighed dramatically.

"And that," Harry turned to the twins, gesturing at Arwen, "is why she is my new favourite."

"Mother, father," Elladan began solemnly. "I'm afraid there is no easy way to say this."

"I believe the time has come for you to have another child," said Elrohir. "We are outnumbered."

Harry face-palmed, an action which Elrond had to exert all his restraint not to mirror while Celebrian was shaking her head in part-amusement and part-mortification. After the laughter had subsided, he looked at Arwen. "It's meant to be worn around your neck and not rubbed at constantly."

"I know that," she said. "I just… it feels very nice to hold it. It makes me feel warm and… safe… as if all the Valar are looking at me… or rather at the green fire inside the stone." She suddenly grinned. "I know what to name it. I shall call it the Galen-Galad, after its maker."

"You can hold it even when it is around your neck," said Celebrian.

Elrond however noticed Harry had become speechless and pensive at Arwen's words. "Harry," Elrond asked curiously. "Are the Valar looking at my daughter right now?"

Harry grinned mischievously and looked up. "Behold! Middle Earth still has a couple of things more beautiful than anything in Aman." He gestured at the necklace and Arwen, who blushed at his words. "Nah, no one is looking at her except all of us here," he said when many of them stared at him with open mouths while Arwen blushed even deeper. "That safe feeling is just my magic, not unlike what you feel when you enter Lady Galadriel's domain. I'm hungry. Can we start eating already?"

With the tension diffused, Harry pretended to focus on his food but his mind was racing with other thoughts. He had just remembered something from the Great Music he had glimpsed at and forgotten. Just before Namo had appeared before him and broken his connection with the Great Music, one of the Ainur had turned his attention away from his theme and had looked at Harry, perceiving his presence - perceiving his power. That was when Harry had opened his eyes and found Namo before him. Later, when Lady Nienna appeared before him, she had been very persistent that he needed to remember something he had forgotten. And now finally, he knew what it was that he had forgotten.

The Ainu who had set his gaze upon him was Melkor, the one known as Morgoth, the Dark Enemy, and now he understood why. Melkor's downfall was a result of his desire for the Flame Imperishable, the Secret Fire of creation. He had searched for it everywhere and never found it for that Secret Fire was located within Eru alone. But now, from another universe, Harry had arrived with the essence of a phoenix, a mere fragment of that fire with which Eru had started the Great Music, but even that mere fragment would have been something Melkor would have lusted for.

He's gone, Harry reminded himself, the Valar have locked him out of Middle Earth in the emptiness of the void. He can never return. He prayed quietly: _if you are truly looking at us, Lords and Ladies of Aman, please do not let Him come back. Or at the very least, give me the strength and courage to protect the ones I love._

"Harry!" Arwen snapped him out of his thoughts and he shook his head.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Father said the twins and I could travel with you to Eregion if you didn't have a problem with that," said Arwen.

Harry kept his expression calm. "I think you boys were planning to accompany Glorfindel in scouting up north to see just how far the orcs had extended their territory, weren't you?"

"Oh, that's right," said Elladan.

"Sorry, Arwen, I forgot about that," said Elrohir.

"But you could go with Harry," Elladan added.

Harry threw them a dark look, knowing they had deliberately engineered it.

"See how you survive a few days on the road with her," Elrohir whispered.

Ignoring him, Harry felt his heart skip a beat when Arwen turned to him with wide eyes and a pleading expression. Part of him knew it was a bad idea, since he desired her and she only saw him as a brother. But another part of him, the less rational part, screamed at him to go for it. Every moment she spent with him lit up his heart like a thousand candles. But was it worth the heartache that would surely follow as his infatuation turned deeper? He glanced at Celebrian and Elrond.

"Ordinarily, I know you would keep her safe and look after her well," said Elrond, coming to his rescue. "But I imagine you would be rather busy with your new project, so perhaps it is best if you stay back in Rivendell, Arwen."

Harry was about to sigh in relief when Celebrian had something to add.

"Or perhaps, Lindir can go with you as well," she said swiftly. "Wasn't he complaining the other day that he hasn't written a new song in many years? Perhaps, this journey will provide him with the inspiration he needs."

Barely avoiding to cast a look of betrayal at Celebrian, Harry turned to Elrond, who sighed again.

"This project could take a long time," Elrond tried again. "I believe Harry will be occupied for several years. You would get bored, daughter, since all that will be taking place is dwarves working on stone."

Celebrian had another suggestion. "Perhaps, Arwen and Lindir could part from Harry at Khazad-Dum and make their way to Lothlorien, from where Arwen could use the Pillars of Union to return home when she has tired of her grandmother's realm."

Harry wondered if Celebrian was deliberately out to make his life miserable. This time he did throw her a sharp look and was met by an amused one in return.

Elrond sighed. "If Lindir is willing, then I have no objections."

Harry caught on to Elrond's meaning and wondered what he could do to bribe or threaten Lindir to not be so willing, when Arwen beat him to it.

"I won a bet against him a few days ago and he has been terrified about what I will make him do," said Arwen. "This will come as a welcome easy forfeit."

Harry raised his head and Elrond gave him a helpless look. He had tried.

* * *

"Can you make fish fly in the air?" Arwen asked.

"Yes, but they will die since they can only breathe in water," replied Harry patiently, while mentally noting 26th question. He was lying on the boat, trying to sleep. His eyes were closed even as he answered her incessant questions.

"Can you make fish breathe outside water?"

"Yes, a modified Bubble-Head Charm would do," replied Harry, thinking 27th question and not even an hour had passed since they parted from Lord Elrond. Three more questions and he was going to push her out of the boat and into the river. Perhaps Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian had sent her with him so he could stage an accident like that. Now, what could he bribe Lindir with to keep his mouth shut?

Harry opened his eyes and saw Lindir was in a fit of laughter while Arwen was glaring at him. "Whoops, did I say all of that out loud instead of inside my head?"

"Fine," Arwen folded her arms and turned away from him with a sulky expression. "I shall not speak to you anymore." But the next moment, she gasped when several fish of various sizes flew up from the river with tiny little bubbles around their head and flew towards her, flapping about. She turned to Harry excitedly. "You can make them dance as well!" she was too excited to remember she wasn't speaking to him.

"Can you make them crisp with a hint of lemon and seasoning?" asked Lindir, imitating Arwen's exuberance, and Harry gave him a thumbs-up when Arwen glared at him darkly. She didn't talk to them for the rest of the evening except in monosyllables.

That night, Harry woke up with a start. His senses had alerted him he was being watched even while he was asleep but he smiled when he realised who was watching him. "You are one creepy elf," he joked at Arwen, who was sitting opposite and facing him. She had been staring at him intently while rubbing the Galen-Galad around her neck.

"Sorry," she said, and despite the darkness, Harry could see the red tinge on her cheek. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," he said.

She looked at him sulkily. "One more. It will be my last one, I promise."

"Do not make promises you can't keep," Harry told her, and shuffled closer to her. "I was only messing with you earlier. You can ask me however many questions you want."

She smiled at him brightly. But then she looked at him seriously. "You barely knew me and yet you made this for me," she said, holding the Galen-Galad. "Why would you give me something so precious?"

Harry reached forward to touch the Galen-Galad, and when their fingers brushed against each other, Arwen drew in a deep breath and her hand trembled slightly. "You drew this light out of me," he said. "You are responsible for the making of the Galen-Galad as much as I am." In a lighter voice, he added, "Besides, we have an alliance against the twins. How could I let you have anything less precious than what I gave them, huh?"

"Thank you for being so good to me," she said cheerfully and snuggled up against him, resting her head against him. For a moment, Harry felt his heart hitch with desire, but he curbed it back. A friend; that was what he needed to be, but friends could be affectionate too. He put an arm around her protectively, and they sat like that, watching the dance of stars all night long, and many nights thereafter.

As the days passed by in their boat journey, they took turns singing songs and Harry was mesmerised by Arwen's voice. It was a soft melodic voice, and while most of the elves sang really well, they did so with a clear dispassionate voice, whereas Arwen sang with emotion.

"Don't stop," said Harry, when she finished a song. "Sing another one." He was surprised when she chose the Lay of Leithian, which was exactly the song he had sang the last time he had been making this very journey and then Glorfindel had teased him if his singing the song about love between elf and human meant he fancied some elven lass. He saw Lindir look at him with a pointed look but he shook his head. Just as he had no deeper meaning when he had sang the song, he was certain Arwen too had chosen it randomly and this wasn't her implying she was beginning to like Harry too.

"Would it terribly offend you if I do not join you when you stay with the dwarves in Khazad-Dum?" Lindir asked him when they crossed through Eregion. Arwen was taking in the sight of ruined realm of her ancestors with great interest, running from one ruined site to another with the exuberance of youth. "I will of course use the pass to cross the mountains to go to Lothlorien when you are ready to part ways."

"Only if you promise to stay within sight of the Western Gate and enter the moment there appears to be any danger," said Harry. "And here, take half my lembas."

"I can make do with what I have," said Lindir.

"I have no doubt you can," said Harry. "I am just lightening my load since I will be stocking up on a fresh supply of mithril."

"May I ask you a delicate question, Harry?" Lindir asked. "Do you think the dwarves can be trusted when you show them the Galen-Galad? They are prone to jealousy and –"

"Durin's Folk have much honour," Harry interrupted. "I would trust them with my life. Besides, I'll be keeping a very close eye on her." He smiled when a snowy owl flew towards him and landed on his shoulder. Every time Arwen tired of walking, she would transform into an owl and hitch a ride on Harry's shoulder. He didn't really mind when she did that and kept spare bits of lembas in his pocket to feed Arwen-as-owl in case she got antsy.

* * *

When he entered the great dwarven kingdom of Khazad-Dum, he was suddenly saddened by the realisation that 90 years had passed since he last set foot in there and many of his old friends would have passed away.

"A man and a she-elf, what strange companions you make!" the dwarf sentry looked surprised at their new guest. "Hmm… what pretty little trinket you have around your neck."

Harry felt Arwen bristle next to him and he was taken by a sudden deja-vu when he and Elya had approached Clan Longbeard to build Fornost. Once again, he took her hand and held it firmly before she could do anything foolish like drawing an arrow at the dwarf.

"What business brings you here?"

"We seek passage to see King Durin… I believe it is still his fourth incarnation?" Harry asked. "Or has he drunk himself to death and on his fifth one now."

The dwarf became uncertain for a few moments, clearly wrestling with the urge to verbally abuse someone who spoke in such a familiar and rude manner about the most venerated of all dwarves, but at the same time, if Harry indeed was a friend of his king, any rudeness to Harry could cost him his head.

"Who are you?"

"I am known as Gabilion, Dwarf-Friend until the end of Durin's line," said Harry. "And this is my companion, Lady Arwen of Rivendell."

The dwarf's eyes widened and he instantly bowed and gave them way. "Lord Gabilion, Hemel son of Jamel, at your service."

"Thank you, Hemel son of Jamel, but I am no lord," said Harry, leading Arwen inside, who was still looking suspiciously at the dwarf. "How is your father?"

"Alas, he has left us and works now at Aule's great forge," said Hemel, which was their metaphorical way of saying he had died.

Harry lowered his head as a sign of respect. "It saddens me to hear that. He was a great story-teller. Many a night we drank until the first shift had already started mining, and he would regale us with tales from the second age."

"He was a great dwarf. And I am but an inferior replacement, for I see I have gravely offended my lady. Accept the apology of your humble servant, Lady Arwen of Rivendell, for the dwarves of Khazad-Dum are by nature rude and ill-mannered to outsiders so they would avoid us and we may preserve our isolation."

Arwen's eyes softened at the dwarf's sincerity. "On one condition," she said. "You will drink with us tonight and tell us a good story, for I fear I have never heard the stories of Jamel the story-teller. Also, I fear I too am not accustomed to the proper etiquette when dealing with dwarves, for it was not my intention to make you feel bad." She threw a look at Harry. "Your Lord Gabilion didn't see it fit to educate me on such things."

The dwarf grinned broadly. "My lady is as magnanimous as she is beautiful."

When Arwen blushed, Harry felt a pang of irrational jealousy. "Should I leave you two alone then?" he muttered but calmed down when Arwen's face lost some of its cheerfulness at his tone. He smiled at her reassuringly.

When they stepped into the Halls of Durin and saw the great dwarven king on his throne, Harry was unable to hold back an honest and joyous laugh.

"Ah ha ha!" King Durin yelled out loud in joy. "I thought I heard a lion roar somewhere in the distance!" He got up from his throne with a little difficulty. Old age was creeping up on him. Harry rushed towards him and they clasped hands like old comrades. "It is good to see you, gift bringer. Now, who is this fair lady accompanying you?" He raised his hand. "No, no, let me guess." He walked towards Arwen using his axe for support. He looked at her with interest. "The elegance of Lady Celebrian, the poise of Lord Elrond and beauty second not even to the daughter of Melian. Surely, you are the grandchild of Lady Galadriel."

Arwen looked at him with a playful expression. "The strength of Durin, the majesty of Durin and the humour of Durin. Surely, you are King Durin himself.'

The king let out a loud and amused laugh. "And the wit of Gabilion, to add to that mix. Come, my lady. You too, Gabilion, old chap, this court is far too formal for good friends." He yelled at his people. "Ale!" He looked at his guests. "Or, perhaps, some of the sweet mead for Lady Arwen instead?"

"Don't let him fool you," Harry cut in before Arwen could say anything. "The mead is much stronger than the ale. You'll get drunk on it, despite your elvish constitution."

"How dare you reveal such precious secrets to outsiders?" the king joked. "However will I be able to get our elvish guests drunk if everyone knows this?"

"I'll have a mead," Arwen stated, looking at Harry defiantly. "Or two."

Harry groaned, suddenly feeling a lot of empathy for Glorfindel, Lindir and Celebrian when they had accompanied him for the first time to the dwarven kingdom.

Later that night, Harry was quite impressed by how swiftly Arwen managed to charm and befriend the dwarves, a task at which elves generally failed very miserably. But that was just her nature, he decided, sweet and friendly with a lot of life and fire. A stark contrast to a lot of other elves, who tended to be cold and aloof and ill-disposed to those they didn't know well.

"You should tell her about your feelings," Durin pushed Harry to make space on the bench to join him. "Or get drunk and lose those feelings. In any case, stealing glances at her with the look of a lovesick troll is not going to achieve anything."

"Do trolls even fall in love?" Harry was surprised at the strange comparison.

"Of course. How else do you think baby trolls come into the world? Spring out of holes in the ground, eh?" the king shot back.

"I tried telling her," said Harry. "I am afraid she only sees me like a brother."

"You are a fool," the king shook his head. "The way you look at her with that 'I dream about your lips when I'm sleeping and when I'm awake' expression… when you're not doing it, she's the one doing it to you. Now, grow a pair, or else I might have to revoke your status as Dwarf-Friend."

Harry took a long sip of his drink. "Your majesty," he began.

"Oh, we're going all serious now?" Durin sighed, pushing aside his tankard. "Shall we retreat to somewhere more private? Or are you scared one of my kin will win your sweetheart before you have finished growing a pair?"

Harry narrowed his eyes when he saw a dwarf was actually trying to chat her up. He muttered a long incantation and snapped his fingers. The dwarf stumbled and his ale fell all over him, which caused all the nearby dwarves to start laughing.

"Now, don't play dirty," said Durin.

Harry followed the king but paused at the door and looked at Arwen. She was certainly having a good time, and despite what Durin had said, he got the distinct feeling she was completely oblivious to him even leaving the hall. Sighing, he followed the king. The dwarves were honourable and all their banter was harmless fun.

But no sooner had he taken a few steps, he heard the shuffle of the lithe and by-now familiar footsteps behind him.

"Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" Arwen asked, sounding upset.

"I have to talk to the king in private," he said defensively.

"And what if one of those strong and muscular dwarves gets a bit too drunk and does something to me?" she asked testily.

Harry took a deep breath. He knew she was safe but this was the first time she had actually left Rivendell. He had to start acting his age and stop behaving like a lovesick… troll.

"You are correct, I should have spoken to you before leaving," he said softly, and took her shoulders and pulled her closer to him reassuringly. "At the very least, I should have told you about the nasty jinx I left behind that would make anyone who even looks at you funny to start having inexplicable accidents."

Arwen's eyes lit up again. "That was you!" she exclaimed. "There was only one who was being irritating. Thank you for looking out for me." Her smile filled his heart with joy.

"Always," said Harry. "Now, go and have fun. I'll be back soon. Find Hemel and ask him to tell you that story he promised." As she left him with a visibly more cheerful expression, Harry touched where she had kissed and found himself praying that the dwarven king might actually have some substance in his fantasies about him and Arwen.

Soon, he had laid his new project before King Durin. "I know your people are loathe to venture out of your halls, but think about it for a while," he said. "Not only would you be assuring your western borders be occupied by an ally, but at the same time, they would be deeply in your debt."

"That's the point," said Durin. "This debt thing, I don't quite like. If, say, this was you who desired to build a new city for maybe a new kingdom you wished to found, then yes, I would send forth an army of dwarves to build you a shining city the likes of which no kingdom of man has ever seen." He shook his head. "I cannot do it for those with whom I have no friendship."

"Your majesty," Harry persisted. "This peace that the last war has bought will not last forever. A day will come when you… nay, not just you, but all the free peoples of Middle Earth will wish that they had more allies neighbouring them than enemies. Why would you not want this luxury?" He continued before the king could say anything. "In any case, if it is a matter of compensation, then I would pay for the services of your people."

"You would pay?" Durin was surprised. "Why do that? What are these people to you?"

"It is as much for them as it is for you, my old friend, for I would see you surrounded by friends rather than orcs," said Harry slowly. "Will you not hear what I have to offer?" When the king motioned for him to speak, he continued. "Nifflers… a creature I can breed using magic that can smell and locate anything metallic or shimmery and dig and burrow through your mines in search for ore."

"How big are these creatures? How dangerous? What's their lifespan?"

"About six to ten inches long, including a long snout," said Harry. "Not particularly dangerous, unless you're holding something shiny and aren't its master. Fiercely loyal to their masters. Roughly, three years lifespan but each litter comprises of six to eight nifflers."

"You said a settlement for a thousand humans?"

"Very basic," said Harry. "No fortifications, no citadels, no towers. Just a settlement."

The king shook his head. "That is a fool's talk. If we want an ally to strengthen our western border, then we need them to be strong. I will have to look into the terrain and determine what would work best."

"You will do it then?"

"A hundred nifflers," Durin retorted. "And the secret of what you did to the mithril ore to turn it into the flawless perfection that your elf friend wears around her neck."

"Alas, that is a feat of magic," said Harry, unwilling to give more details about the Philosopher's Stone. He could trust the dwarves with his life but only a fool would tell them he possessed an object that could turn ordinary base metal into gold. "If you want, I can convert some of your ore into that form so your workers can see what they can do with it but it drains a lot from me, so it will have to be a small amount."

"Should this be considered part of your payment for this new town?"

Harry looked slightly offended. "No, this would be a gift to my good friends in Khazad-Dum."

The king thumped him on his back. "And you, of course, can keep as much mithril ore you manage to fill into your sack."

"Pockets," he said. "That sack now belongs to my son Prince James of Arnor but, worry not, my pockets are even more extensive and there are two of them." Business concluded, he looked at his old friend in concern. "My old friend," he said in a low voice. "I give you the nifflers but I echo the warnings given to you previously by the elves - use them sparingly - dig outwards, not further below."

The king grunted. "Your warning has been heard," he said, "and duly ignored."

Harry sighed. The stubbornness of dwarves - it would be the death of them. But then he changed topics, knowing there was no point pushing any harder. "Durin, it grieves me to see you so. I dare not share this with many, but there is a magical ability I possess that can bring back your youth."

Durin turned to him with a kind expression and one that held ageless wisdom. "I know why you offer this," he said. "You give it, not for me, but for your own selfish need to keep me tethered to this mortal world." Harry remained silent. "I understand that need, for it is one I have often felt raging in my veins. They call me First Father, Durin, the Deathless. I have already outlived my great grandsons, and that alone in this one incarnation." He shook his head. "I welcome old age and then death, for it grants me the gift of oblivion, a brief respite to my weary soul, before I am remade in Aule's great forge and sent back to life."

"How long will that cycle continue?"

Durin shrugged. "As long as any of my line continues, and as long as my body is sent to Aule with the proper ritual, my spirit shall be reborn as my very next descendant. That is why they call me the Deathless, for even death is but a temporary break for me."

"Do you retain your old memories?"

Durin's face turned very serious. "I do, but I do not retain the feelings and emotions associated with those memories in my old life. Alas, old friend, when the day comes for you to meet Durin, the fifth, we shall have to remake our friendship and I have no idea what sort of a dwarf he would be. But rest assured he will remember all that we have done together."

Harry sighed.

"But, throw aside such thoughts of gloom," Durin said. "I still have many long decades left in me."

In his gut, Harry felt Durin was being over-optimistic for his sake. "If you don't mind, I should check up on Arwen."

"Finished growing the pair, then?"

Harry ignored the king and walked back to the drinking hall and waved at Arwen, who was now singing a song, which had enchanted the dwarves who were listening to her with rapt attention and in complete silence.

"Looks like your people are growing soft, your majesty," whispered Harry. "I remember there was a day they would rather roar like a lion but now they sit silent like meek little lambs."

"She shines with starlight and her voice holds the depth of the sea. What can mere dwarves do when even the Great Lion has been enchanted by this elf maiden?" the king retorted.

After that, Harry kept his mouth shut.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Harry stood at the gate of the walled city. The Northmen had made slow progress from Greenwood to Eregion over long routes that would keep them close to rivers. Much of the work he had commissioned the dwarves for had already been finished. In the centre was the palace, made in a strange new design, a cylindrical construct made of white stone with an open courtyard with a garden in the middle of the cylinder, six storeys high. The palace towered above the rest of the city, which rarely went beyond two storeys. Four equidistant roads connected the palace to the various gates in the out walls, with the city generally designed in ringed-layers. Surrounding the palace was a ringed layer that would be the upper market, followed by ringed-layers of many uniform purpose-built blocks, which could be used for various guild halls, hospitals, schools or anything which required a larger number of people to gather together. Surrounding that in several layers were smaller individual houses.

Harry knew the Northmen had a very primitive society and weren't used to the organised lifestyle this new city would impose on them, but he was willing to help them out until they had settled in. Having established Fornost from scratch, Harry was certainly used to founding a new city.

Girold son of Giri approached Harry. "We have sighted the humans. They move slow and bring with them numerous cattle and many wagons."

"Food would have been a big concern for them," Harry remarked, noting that they wouldn't have the luxury of the elvish lembas bread - a tiny bite of which could provide enough energy and nutrition for a whole meal. But he had thought about it in the city planning. One of the purpose-built blocks had been converted into a large granary and Harry had stocked it with grain to last the Northmen for a couple of years, long enough for them to build farms and cultivate their own food, but from the sounds of things, they had been preparing themselves for it on their own.

"The men look hardy," said Girold. "The women are comely."

Harry was surprised. "A dwarf who appreciates beauty in a human? You are a strange one, Girold son of Giri. Do not let your kin hear you, or else you would become the laughing stock of the kingdom."

"I doubt I am the only one." Girold chuckled. "These lot aren't as unpleasantly tall as those who sailed from the west. A big redeeming feature, in my humble opinion." He looked at three men who rode ahead in horses and approached the city's gate. "These must be the three heads."

Harry nodded. "Greetings, Elgar, Brandin and Rolph, to your new city. This is Girold, kin and spokesman to King Durin of the great dwarven kingdom of Khazad-Dum, to whom you owe your gratitude for this spectacular new home."

The three chiefs walked towards the dwarves and Rolph knelt on the ground before him. "We had heard about the great skill of the dwarves in tales of old but it is a travesty that the tales don't speak more of the great hearts and kindness of your people. Pray tell us, Lord Girold, how can we poor and impoverished folk repay you for this great boon?" The other two men joined him on either side and also knelt.

"King Durin bids you welcome, our new neighbours," said Girold, who looked pleased at the men's humility and sincerity. "We desire only two things of you. First, you will protect the western border of Khazad-Dum from those who mean us ill."

"I daresay that would be to both our interests," said Rolph. "Agreed, without hesitation."

"Second, we welcome you as allies but we treasure our privacy and prefer to lead our lives in isolation. Unless you have great need of audience with us, you will not cross River Sirannon and come upon the Western Gate of Khazad-Dum."

"Agreed," said Rolph. "But I fear you only ask so little that we will forever be left in your debt."

"The debt has already been repaid by our mutual friend, Harry," said Girold. "These are merely terms of peaceful cohabitation between allies. Whatever debt you owe, it is rightfully to him and not to us."

"That is well noted," said Rolph. "May I suggest one additional thing to our terms of peaceful cohabitation? It was custom amongst our people when we lived as separate clans to hold a clasmoot once a year or more often during times of distress where the clan leaders would meet and discuss issues of mutual significance. If your king would be willing, I think the friendship between our people would only grow if we keep to that tradition and meet once a year to discuss any issues of common importance or any grievances before they are allowed to fester out of control."

While Girold looked uncertain, Harry nodded. "I like that idea," he said. "But instead of the leaders travelling out of their realms, I would suggest sending ambassadors to discuss these issues."

"Yes, that might be more practical and something my king would be willing to consider," said Girold. "I fear he himself would not step outside his halls as frequently." He then shook hands with the three men. "I must leave you to your new city now. My people long to return to our halls of shining silver and cold stone."

After the dwarves left, Rolph turned to Harry. "How can we thank you, Lord Harry?"

"I am no lord," Harry smiled at him. "And there is no need, I am happy to help." Hesitating, he added, "Also, I have previously governed a city, and if it would please you, I would be more than happy to lend you my services to ensure your transition is as smooth as possible."

"You mean you would seek to rule over us?" Brandin asked curiously, with a glint in his eyes.

Harry shook his head. "No, I apologise if I implied that. You and your people will have full control over how your city is governed. My role will be more as an adviser to whoever is your ruler."

Elgar was the next to speak. "Over our long journey south, we considered the many options before us and have decided to follow the system of our ancestors before we split into separate clans albeit with a few modifications. The people will select a council of three and it is that council which shall collectively govern the people for a period of ten years, after which a new council will be elected. No person may be part of two successive councils"

"Except for the first council, which will comprise of the three of us," said Brandin.

"Nay," said Rolph, suddenly. "I have thought much over the journey as well. I am much more advanced in age than the two of you and would enjoy what little is left of my life in peace without the stress of governing. Perhaps, our saviour should be given a place in the council in my stead."

Harry hesitated. "I am not one of your people. I hardly think they would accept me as one of your leaders."

Rolph argued. "The way we see it, this city is yours and we are merely occupying it at your pleasure. That gives you a greater right than anyone else to have a say regarding the affairs of the city."

Brandin didn't look convinced but Elgar nodded. "Yes, I agree. Moreover, we would benefit from your experience in such things." He looked at Rolph. "Your wisdom is still of great value and from what I have come to know of you, you will hate it if you had nothing to do in your free time. Would you perhaps consider being our ambassador to our new allies the dwarves ot the east and the elves to the north?"

Rolph nodded. "Yes, yes. That would please me." He looked behind. "Now, then. We should prepare for the arrival of the people."

So, once again Harry found himself in charge of governing a new city of men from scratch. To his surprise, the new council system worked quite well. The palace was transformed into a city hall where the council had its seat and governed the city, although each member of the council also had ordinary houses together with the rest of the population. While all major decisions were deliberated between the three of them, they each had areas that were their special responsibility in which they had greater discretion to do things without raising it in council. Brandin took charge of security and related matters, commissioning the construction of new weapons and the training of those who volunteered to join the military. Elgar took charge of the general administration of the city and the settling in of the people. Meanwhile, Harry focused on what he was best at, building the economy of the city.

Some of the early decisions they had to take were of a more fun nature.

"We need to name the city, a flag and a symbol that the people would relate to," said Harry. "Giving the people a new sense of identity would make them adapt to their new lives faster."

"And I suppose you have already thought of a name?" Brandin asked.

Harry shook his head, wondering what it would take for Brandin to accept him. "I have a suggestion for a symbol but it would be more appropriate if these decisions are made by the two of you."

"What symbol do you propose?" Elgar asked.

"How about a serpent with three heads and a single body. That could represent the three clans coming together as one, or the fact that the city is run by a council of three which acts as one for the entire population body."

Brandin was silent for a while before nodding. "Serpents are sacred to our people, for we use their venom in our weapons to kill orcs."

"I know," said Harry. "Rolph and I have spoken at great length about the culture of your people, as I did not wish to offend anyone by accident."

Brandin looked at him curiously. "You would honour our customs and traditions?" He was silent for a few moments. "Perhaps, I misjudged you."

"I can do more," said Harry, suddenly realising he had an opening to forge a friendship with him. "I can use my skills to breed a serpent with three heads, orange in colour with black stripes. We can make a sanctum in the inner garden within the city hall where these three-headed runespoor can live. Their venom, I assure you, is more potent than any other serpent you would have come across."

"Then, we have found ourselves a symbol to unite the people with one identity," said Brandin, looking at Harry in a new light. "Our flag shall have this as a symbol, and we shall be the folk of the three-headed serpent." He grinned at Harry in a friendly manner. "Any suggestions for a name for the city?"

Harry was surprised by the query. Brandin was as quick to friendship as he was to hostility. He had one suggestion. "Salazar," he suggested. "He was a great sorcerer who could speak to snakes and, in turn, was revered by all snakes."

* * *

So started the city of Salazar in Eregion west of Khazad-Dum, which answered to no king or master and was governed by its own council comprising of the people and elected by the people. The people slowly settled in and started taking up new trades, alien to them. Harry set up various guilds and every other day of the week, he would go to a different guild which wasn't traditionally part of their culture and train those who had signed up for that trade.

In the guild of armourers and blacksmiths, he taught them how to make better weapons and armour. Whereas previously, each person had made their own weapons and learnt how to fight from their fathers and brothers, now there were skilled craftsmen who made advanced weapons and armour, and an organised military order which trained them in wielding the weapons.

In the guild of physicians and apothecaries, he taught the basics of brewing simple potions that non-magical people could do with the ingredients that were available to them.

In the guild of scribes, he taught how to read and write Westron and also the basics of Sindarin. The guildhall was popularly called the centre of lore and learning where Harry kept a few simple books he had been writing during what little free time he had together with replicas of the map of Middle Earth with Lord Elrond.

Soon, the farms and orchards outside the city walls started producing food and the fishermen mastered the art of catching fish from rivers Glanduin and lower Bruinen.

Four years had passed... Harry was surprised how swiftly the people had adjusted to their new lives in Salazar.

Old Rolph walked into the runespoor sanctum with Harry. They had been discussing his latest visit to Khazad-Dum as an ambassador from Salazar. "Marvellous little creatures," he said, reaching inside to hold one of the runespoors.

"You want to hold the right head," said Harry. "So that it cannot bite you with it, that's the only head which has venom."

"I heard from Elgar that three serpent patrols are now ready. Each will scout up to a hundred miles up north on the Misty Mountains in successive months to see if orcs have come south. The dwarves will allow them to use some of their outer passageways so long as we give advanced notice."

Harry nodded. The serpent patrol was a swift and nimble company, which wielded long spears tipped with runespoor venom and short swords. They would be quite a formidable force if they come across an orc company in the mountains.

Rolph continued. "Before I forget, King Durin thanks you for the nifflers. They are digging and locating mithril at a faster rate than ever before. He also requested that you visit him when you get the opportunity."

Harry was curious. "Why? Would he like me to purify more mithril?"

"Many of his kin would like that," Rolph nodded. "But the king requests your presence for an entirely different reason." He sighed heavily. "His health has taken a sudden turn for the worse and he wishes to see you one more time in this current incarnation before he is reborn as Durin V."

Harry took a deep breath. "Of course, I will depart at once." He was silent for a while. "I have known him for so long that it is hard to imagine he would no longer be there."

* * *

Harry returned from Khazad-Dum in a pensive mood. Of all his visits, this had been his least favourite. Seeing the king in his frail health had affected him more than he cared to admit. Of course, he had seen people die before, but that was always in the battlefield. Nobody close to him had actually died of old age and Durin would eventually be the first. Despite the king's protests, this time Harry had left a vial of the Elixir of Life with him, even though the king was adamant not to take it.

"Leave however much you will, Gabilion, I shall not take a single drop of it," the king had sworn. "Unless my people are in great need of a healthy king, I shall embrace death at my destined hour."

Harry had ignored his words. If he couldn't use this great magic for his wife or a true friend - then what was the point of it.

Once again, he was reminded of his unique situation and long life and how he would have to get used to the experience of seeing friends and family go through exactly what Durin was going through.

"Sir Harry," the sentry at the gate recognised him. "You are needed in the city hall."

"What's happening?" he asked.

"Emissaries have come from the west," said the guard. "They are negotiating a peace treaty with Sir Elgar and Sir Brandin."

"From Arnor?" Harry was surprised and for a brief moment, his heart was lit up with hope that perhaps his son James had come. "Do you know who's leading the emissaries?"

"Yes, sir," said the guard. "It is King Eldacar himself."

Harry sighed, suddenly thinking his presence could do more ill than good. But there was no way out of it now. He walked to the city hall and into the private conference room. When he entered, everyone turned to him and there was silence.

King Eldacar stood up. "You have my terms," he said to the other two councillors. "Let me have an answer by dawn." He walked out of the room, brushing past Harry as if he wasn't even there. To Harry's surprise, Gawin was also part of the group from Arnor and he held back after the others had left.

"My lord," said Gawin, bowing his head before Harry.

"I am not your lord anymore," said Harry with an ironic chuckle. "Tell me, Gawin, what news from the west? How fares Prince James?"

"Prince James rules over Fornost with as much love and affection as his parents once did," said Gawin. "The city is beginning to get happy and the Abraxan herd is thriving once again." He had a slightly perturbed expression on his face. "Please, I beg you, do not judge him harshly."

"Who, James?"

Gawin shook his head. "The king," he said in a soft voice. "His grief over Princess Elya's loss and suffering has made him embittered in all things concerning you, but otherwise, he is a good man and he works hard to be a good king. Please keep that in mind." He then rushed out of the room after the rest of the men from Arnor.

Harry turned to Elgar and Brandin, who had very sombre looks on their faces. "What happened?"

"The king," Brandin spat in disgust, "has an army half a day's march away from Salazar."

"What?" Harry was shocked. "Surely, he doesn't mean to make war on Salazar."

Elgar was the calmer of the two. "He has offered us a peace treaty. If we reject his terms, then he will seize Salazar by force. He said he knows your power but he will sacrifice every single man who follows him to annex the city to his kingdom."

"What are his terms?" Harry asked quietly.

"First, we will recognise the paramount sovereignty of the High King of Arnor and be subject to his rule," said Arnor. "Second, he will permit us to continue governing ourselves as we currently do except that one member of the council will be appointed by him. Third, we will send to Annuminas a tenth of the grains, livestock and weapons produced each year and the king's representative will oversee this. And finally, our armed forces will recognise the Sceptre of Annuminas as its chief commander."

"We will become a puppet state," Brandin spat in disgust.

"What choice do we have?" Elgar looked despondent. "We still haven't recovered from the orc raids. Our entire population is smaller than the army he has brought against us. They have ranged-warriors who fly on winged-horses and can rain arrows on our people while we will be helpless."

"Is that what he threatened?" Harry asked coldly, as the fury of the basilisk started growing inside him again. Earlier, his guilt regarding Elya had prevented him from reacting to Eldacar's hostility. But now... how dare the magical Abraxan be used against him? "Is that what he threatened?" he repeated.

The silent and slightly nervous looks on the faces of the two men gave him the answer he needed. But what choice did he have? He would have to either accept Eldacar's terms or kill men of Arnor whose only fault was they followed a king who harboured a deep grudge against Harry. This wasn't their fault and Harry wasn't going to do it.

"Prepare a counter offer," said Harry, sighing as he took a seat. "We will be renamed The Free City of Salazar but will acknowledge we lie within the boundaries of Arnor with the gracious consent of the King of Arnor until his line lasts. We will provide a twentieth of the city's tax collections as tribute to Annuminas, net of all mandatory expenses, and internal policies and military affairs will be our sole discretion. In return, Annuminas will open trade with us and allow free movement of people and goods." When the others looked shocked at his suggestion, Harry explained his rationale, "We are too small to hold up against the might of Arnor, but it need not be a bad thing… if trade opens up, then the merchants will spread word about the splendour of Salazar and more people will move here, swelling up the numbers. This is the surest way to make Salazar a stronger and more prosperous city."

Brandin didn't look happy. "What about the king appointing a representative to the council?"

"Reject it," said Harry. "But he may send an inspector to ensure that Annuminas indeed receives a twentieth of the annual tax. But you may choose to levy very little or no tax - so that is of little importance really. The internal affairs of Salazar will still be completely under your control, and also, you would have the chance to rebuild your lives with the help of Arnor."

"But what if the king doesn't accept?" Elgar asked.

"He will," sighed Harry. "I know his mind. His main purpose is to ensure Salazar falls within the territory of Arnor, either by peaceful means or war." When they looked at him with confused looks, he explained. "The day that happens is the day I will have to leave this city. I am banished from Arnor until the end of Eldacar's reign."

"Then, we will fight!" Brandin growled.

Harry shook his head. "_You_ cannot fight," he said. "The serpent patrol is still out and the city guard is barely a few dozen men. They have an army of thousands, highly trained and veterans of war." He sighed. "The only path to victory would be if I slaughtered every single man who follows the flag of Arnor - and I refuse to do so."

"But it isn't fair," said Brandin.

Harry stood up and grinned at him. "And to think, only a few years ago you would have cast me out of the city yourself." Despite the situation, his heart felt uplifted. If he could the loyalty of a man who had been so against him, why did it matter to him if Eldacar refused to let go of his grudge? But he shook his head. "I thank you for your friendship but Salazar has no king. The lives of the people and the future of the city should not depend on just one man."

"Then, let us put it before the people," said Brandin. "I know they will all stand up and take arms for you."

Harry was touched by the sentiment. He turned to Elgar who had a conflicted look on his face. "We are the council of Salazar," Harry said firmly. "They have entrusted us to do what is best for them and their futures. I ask you gentlemen to put aside all personal feelings and consider my proposal to assess what would be best for the people of Salazar. All in favour?" He raised his hand and, a few moments later, Elgar also raised his hand. "This concludes the council meeting. Sir Elgar, will you take our proposal and revised terms to King Eldacar? I will go and pack my stuff, in the meantime."

"This isn't fair," Brandin said again, when Elgar had left.

"Life isn't fair," Harry snapped back at him - his irritation towards Eldacar getting the better of him. But then he calmed down. "But perhaps this is for the best. This banishment is not forever, you know. One day, King Eldacar's reign will end and I will be back."

"But he is one of the long-lived," said Brandin. "He may yet live for centuries."

"And I will easily outlive him," said Harry, with a smile, to Brandin's surprise.

Brandin was silent for a while but then he chuckled. "I always knew there was something unnatural about you."

"Breeding three-headed snakes didn't give it away?" Harry joked.

Brandin was silent again for a few moments. "You are wrong, you know?" he began. "Salazar might not have a king in title, but in every way that matters, you have been our king. And we will not forget that. I will ensure you will be remembered and when the day of your return dawns upon us, Salazar will embrace its once and future king with open arms."

"The sentiment more than the title means more to me than you can imagine," said Harry. "There is one more thing I need to do and then I will leave. Farewell, Brandin of Salazar, take good care of this city."

"Farewell, Harry of Salazar," said Brandin.

Waiting long enough so that Elgar would have delivered the counter offer to the king, Harry walked out of the city and transformed into a griffin. He flew west and saw where the army of Arnor was camped. Many were pointing up at him, but ignoring them, Harry roared, lacing his voice with magic. He was the king of the forests and the king of the skies. Moreover, he was their creator. The Abraxans would obey him. And soon enough, he saw the Abraxans abandon their riders as they flew towards him. He led them to a clearing not far from the army.

Soon, King Eldacar and a company of men rode towards him, ready to fight. "Seize the Abraxans," Eldacar ordered, while drawing his sword. But Harry had created a ward between him and the approaching army and they couldn't penetrate it, as if an invisible wall was stopping their progress.

"Salazar lies within Arnor, now. You are violating the terms of your banishment, Harald Gryffindor!" Eldacar shouted. "I would be within my rights to take you prisoner."

Harry looked at him with a disappointed look. "Salazar may be part of Arnor but Eregion is not," he said. "You have no claim over the land where I stand."

"Be that as it may, I didn't take you for a petty thief," said Eldacar. "Return those horses to their rightful masters. They have been bred by my people; you have no right to them."

"The Abraxan were a gift to the Kingdom of Arnor, to grow in number for a time when Arnor faced a mighty foe. They were not meant to be used to expand your territory and terrorise innocents," said Harry. "I will not suffer my gift to be abused in such manner. Your right to them, and that of Arnor's, is hereby revoked. If Arnor is weakened as a result, so be it. I would rather see you fall before your foes than become the very tyrant you sought to oppose."

"You cannot do that!" Eldacar's face had turned pale.

Harry ignored him and transformed into a griffin. "Follow me," he commanded in a voice of magic, and the cohort of winged-horses flew behind Harry. Finally, he was beginning to see the wisdom of King Durin and King Thranduil and their desire to live in isolation from the other peoples of Middle Earth to avoid their meaningless wars. But when he calmed down a bit, he flew down and sighed. Was this once again his hubris? What gave him the right to take away the Abraxans from their homes and riders?

"I apologise for forcing my will on you," he said regretfully to the Abraxans. "Truly, each of you is free to go and do as you please, even if it is to return to Arnor. However, if you do not wish to return to Arnor, then you may continue flying after me. I will take you to a safe place where you may live in peace." He knew where he had to go.

* * *

Harry was wandering in Redeemer's Woods. Seeing Eldacar again had stirred up memories and he felt a desire to visit Elya's shrine. Also, the Abraxan had taken to the woods and seemed very happy. The walk had been very pleasant. The forest had changed so much since his last visit; the dark aura was completely gone and instead there was a hallowed feeling to it as a result of it being inhabited by hundreds of Patroni-like Wood Nymphs. And on top of that, the grace of a Vala had touched it. The Wood Nymphs recognised him and welcomed him with a nature dance that led him straight to the shrine. As he approached the shrine, he raised his hand and the bog mist that would induce a person's greatest fears parted before him and he walked to the shrine and sat next to it.

"Hey, there," he said. "I felt lonely and thought I'd come and visit. I have kept my promise and stopped mourning you but I still miss you so much." He felt peace as he gazed into the green everlasting fire that was in the shrine. "That fire is a part of my spirit, not sundered as if with dark magic, but rather a small offering freely given to one who is dear to me to keep you warm and protected against all the evil in this life and the next." He hesitated. "I tried many times since, but only once again was I able to bring forth the Secret Fire. Also for someone who has become very dear to me in a very short period of time. I think you would have liked her."

He frowned when he felt a familiar presence and looked up. On a tree, a very familiar snowy owl was sitting and gazing at him. Harry sighed - wondering if he had been overheard. But it didn't matter, he decided, and he raised a hand and beckoned the owl towards him. The owl flew down and transformed into Arwen. "I didn't mean to overhear any of that," she said, afraid she had done something very wrong.

"Come, sit with me," said Harry. "Let us watch the dance of the trees." When Arwen joined him, he wrapped an arm around her, like they used to when they travelled, and he asked, "What brings you to Redeemer's Woods? Surely, you do not have any regret so deep that you were able to pass through my enchantments."

Arwen shook her head. She touched the Galen-Galad around her neck. "You said there was nowhere in Middle Earth you wouldn't be able to find this fire," she whispered. "It works both ways, Harry. While I touch this, I can feel your presence anywhere in Middle Earth. More than that, I can feel your heart and soul. Earlier, I felt you so close to Rivendell and then I felt your grief and loneliness." She hesitated. "And all I wanted to do then was to find you and stay with you until you stopped feeling lonely." She looked away from his intense gaze. "I didn't fully understand until just now… but you just said it – how can I be stopped by enchantments when I carry a part of your spirit?"

Harry reached forward and took the Galen-Galad in his hand. Green flames rippled inside the mithril phoenix. Once again, he was mesmerised by it and stunned by the fact that he had created something so beautiful… and from what Arwen said, he suddenly realised, something so terrible.

"I didn't realise it would be a two-way thing and what a burden it would be for you," said Harry. "Maybe, it is best if I take it away… I can give you something else that allows you to keep transforming into an owl."

"No." Arwen pushed his hand away from the Galen-Galad.

Harry looked at her patiently. "Arwen, my spirit is not something you want to have such a strong connection with," he said. "There is -"

"I know what is in there; perhaps, better than you do," she said vehemently.

Harry felt his stomach sink. Had Arwen sensed the abyss within him? Had she seen the darkness? Was that why she was fighting back right now – the addiction to the darkness? His fear made him snap at her. "It was mine to give as it is mine to take away!"

"Don't you dare!" Arwen snapped back. "It was made for me, you had said, and now it has become a part of me." Her anger faded as swiftly as it had come and she looked at him with a forlorn expression. "I know I cannot stop you from taking it away but please don't… I beg you… please… I'll do anything."

Harry took a deep breath at the lost and fearful expression on her face and he hated himself for being the cause of it. No, it wasn't dark magic addiction, for that would have made her lash out in anger not plead so innocently. And once again, he was shocked at how Arwen brought out the worst in him, the thoughtless youth who would say and act before thinking things over as someone his age ought to do.

"You are correct," said Harry, leaning back in exhaustion. "It is as much yours as it ever was mine. Perhaps even more so." He looked at her with a regretful smile. "I really don't want to fight with you."

"Then, don't," she said, as she started cheering up. "Instead, tell me about her. What was she like?"

Harry was taken aback by the sudden diversion. But then his lips started working on their own, and he told Arwen about when he first met Elya in the melee. He told her about how they built Fornost Erain from nothing into the great city it had become. He told her about how he abandoned her in his hubris to defy the order of life and death and all that she suffered but despite that, she never gave up on him.

"That's so romantic," she said dreamily. "Do you think anyone would ever love me as much as you loved her?"

Harry felt his heart wrench at those words. How could she not know? But once again, he reminded himself of what Elrond had said. Be a friend to her. He smiled at her as best he could. "You certainly deserve it," he said. "If not much more than that." He stood up. "Come on. I should take you back to Rivendell before Lord Elrond sends out search parties to all four corners of Middle Earth."

"No, he wouldn't," she said cheekily, slipping her fingers in his hand. "He knows you would find me if I get lost."

"Always," said Harry, tightening his grip around her fingers.

As they walked, he found himself telling her more stories about his life. Before he knew it, he was telling her about Hogwarts and the Philosopher's Stone and the Chamber of Secrets. And she was outraged by all the things he had done at such a young age while still treating her like a child when she was much older, elvish slow maturity notwithstanding. So, they argued and laughed and teased each other until they came upon Rivendell.

"I'm back!" Arwen shouted when she entered the house.

Lord Elrond raised his head from whatever book he was reading. "Oh, you had gone somewhere?"

"Father!" Arwen complained at his indifference.

Elrond chuckled. "I called off the search parties when I sensed you cross the Bruinen with Harry." He turned to Harry. "There's something I would like to discuss with you."

"Can I stay and listen?"

Elrond turned to his daughter. "If I say no, you would just transform into an owl and linger outside my window, would you not?"

Arwen grinned him cheekily but Harry's next words wiped her smile off. "I can use magic to ensure privacy."

Elrond shook his head. "What I have to say is not private enough to risk Arwen's displeasure. You can stay, sweet daughter."

Arwen sent a triumphant look at Harry, who sighed and snapped his fingers. The next moment, she was transformed into a piglet. Harry shrugged at Elrond. "You said she could stay," he said. "She can stay in this form as well."

"I know she can be vexing at times," said Elrond. "But I would insist you change my dear daughter back to her usual self, Harry."

Sighing, Harry snapped his fingers again and Arwen was back with a stunned expression on her face. She looked at Harry with a look of betrayal. "This alliance is over," she declared. "I am going to find the twins and... you won't know what hit you, Galen-Galad." She stormed out of Elrond's chambers.

Elrond chuckled while Harry rubbed his forehead. Harry looked at Elrond despondently. "She brings out the worst in me."

"Or the best," said Elrond. "It is, after all, a matter of perspective." He looked curiously at Harry. "After nearly six years apart, you still have feelings for her?"

"Deeper and stronger than ever before," admitted Harry. "I am scared of the intensity of my feelings."

"She is an elf," Elrond said. "We mature slowly, over many more years than humans. It took me over a hundred years after meeting Celebrian to realise the true depths of my feelings for her, and it took her much longer to reciprocate them. Arwen's soul is still far too young to be capable of understanding such deep feelings."

"Then, there is still hope we might be together when she is older."

Elrond's expression dimmed. "There is always hope. However, my hopes are that you will grow out of these feelings and not that she will grow into them." When he saw Harry's stunned expression, he continued, "I do not say so because I think you wouldn't be good to her or good enough for her. In fact, I cannot think of anyone who could be better. But understand my dilemma: someday, perhaps many thousand years from now, I hope, but a day will come when I will travel west to Aman, with the rest of my kin and my family. Save one… you… That grieves me enough as it is… but the thought that it won't just be you but both you and Arwen…" A look of pain crossed through his face. "I will not be able to tolerate such separation."

Harry's expression softened. "I understand," he said quietly. "But you have nothing to fear. Arwen has no feelings for me other than platonic affection." He changed topics. "What was it you wished to speak to me about?"

Elrond welcomed the change in subjects as well. "You," he said. "From many of your recent endeavours, it is clear to me that you take great pleasure in building something out of nothing that can be of great help to the free peoples of Middle Earth. I have a proposal for you, a great venture, that may in time become one of the strongest bastions of Middle Earth in opposition to all that is unholy and evil."

"I am listening," said Harry, sounding intrigued.

"A centre of healing," said Elrond, "where any man, elf or dwarf could come to seek healing or to learn the art of healing without fear of being turned away for lack of gold or their race."

Harry was intrigued. The idea had much merit. "I assume you have given thought to the venture already?"

Elrond nodded. "For one, it has to be located somewhere central and within easy reach of all you intend to serve. I believe the Angle where the Bruinen meets the Mitheithel is the perfect location."

"There is one problem with that," he said, telling Elrond about what had happened in Salazar. "If Eldacar does something similar again as he did with Salazar, I will have to abandon this place."

Elrond frowned thoughtfully. "The other location I had considered was one of the larger eyots in River Anduin around where it meets River Gladden. It is close to warg territory but you will also be near your friends in Greenwood and far away from the reach of Arnor's armies."

"I like this idea better," said Harry. "I can create suitable defences against wargs."

"Will your dwarf friends be willing to assist you again in constructing a suitable hospice?"

Harry shook his head. "King Durin is approaching the end of his current life. It would be most insensitive of me to approach him with a personal request. But I have another idea. Leave the construction work to me. You are right, though, we should build something of great symbolic importance. I will have to give it some thought… maybe draw some inspiration from the great wonders of my old world."

Elrond. "I wish to assist you with the centre, at least, for a period at the beginning. Others have expressed similar desire. The elves of middle-earth have become complacent - choosing to hide instead of leave a mark for the better - I wish to change that by assisting you to my best capacity with this endeavour."

"It would be an honour," said Harry. "Anyone from Rivendell would be most welcome. Just give me a couple of months' head-start to build and secure the place before you make your way to me."

* * *

Harry whistled as he placed seven stones around the boundaries of the eyot. They weren't ordinary stones, he had carved very specific runes on them using his blood. Elrond's advice had been sound. Harry had come across eyots in River Anduin even further north but they were either too small, like Carrock, or too close to goblin territory to be practical. This one was perfect. Once he had finished placing the seven stones to demarcate the territory, he walked to the middle.

"I claim this isle as my home," he said, invoking a powerful arcane magic. "Tol Avalon, I name it." He felt magic coursing up through him and then burst out of his body in numerous beams of white light towards the stones. This magic could only be performed by the mightiest of wizards - and even then only once in their lives.

Harry felt a sharp pain in his chest and wondered if he had chosen a larger area than advisable. Without the Hat, he was kind of lost when it came to such theoretical things.

"Oh well," he muttered as light kept flowing out of him, pain kept getting worse and his eyes were beginning to falter and darkness was nearly upon him. "At least, I know I shan't die."

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw were large eyes inside oversized heads staring at him. He got up hurriedly and looked around. "Hello," he said.

"Hello," one of the new creatures around him called out. "Master?"

"None of that," said Harry. "You can call me Harry and I will call you by your names." He saw blank looks on their faces and decided to begin again. "I am a wizard and I claimed this island as my home. My magic resulted in you being created - as magical creatures belonging to a wizard's home."

The expressions on his listeners' faces suddenly cleared. "Master," they said cheerfully.

Harry rubbed his forehead and had to remind himself why he had thought summoning an army of Dobbys was a good idea. "I order you to call me Harry or Mister Harry," he said. He counted them. Seven, not bad, and no wonder he had collapsed from exhaustion. He had hoped at least three or four, given the isle he claimed as his home was much bigger than a single house. "Back in my old home, we used to call you House-Elves, and I understand you lot are very confused right now. You are born of magic, my magic, claiming this area as my home."

One of them was nodding his head vigorously. "Yes, Master Harry."

Harry sighed. "Harry or Mister Harry," he reminded them. "Your existence and magic is tied to the anchor stones around this property. Should you leave this property for long periods of time, you will find your magic beginning to recede and eventually your life force will falter until you return to the magic from whence you were summoned… unless you find another magical residence to tie yourself to. There will be no pain or torture for you should you choose to do so - only the blissfulness of oblivion."

Some of them had terrified looks on their faces.

"Please do not be afraid," said Harry kindly. "I intend to be good to you, and if you ever have any grievance, please do speak to me about it." He hesitated. "One of your kind rebelled against his master and risked losing his magic and life-force to help me. I considered him a friend and I hope in time you will consider me a friend as well."

"Friend Harry," one of the creatures suddenly said.

"Yes, that works," said Harry, cheerfully. "In fact, why not? All healers in the Shining Tower of Avalon shall henceforth have the prefix 'friend' before their names."

"Names?" one of them asked curiously. "Do we have names as well, Friend Harry?"

"Not yet," said Harry. "You were created from my magic, which is why you understand any language I understand. Do you have any preference for names?"

They all shook their heads. "Will you name us, Friend Harry?" one of them asked.

"I suppose so," sighed Harry. "All males to this side, and all females to that side. I shan't use the name which my people used for your kind, but instead I shall call you imps." Then, he proceeded to name them with a grin on his face. "You boys shall be called: Dasher, Prancer and Comet. You girls are: Dancer, Vixen, Cupid and Blitzie." They all look delighted with their new names. "Now, we need to actually start building stuff here." He took out a large mithril ore and used magic to float it to the middle of the demarcated property. "Engorgio." He kept on increasing the size of the chunk of mithril until he felt it reach the limit. Any more and it would have exploded most violently. "This will do," he muttered and then took out another chunk of mithril, which floated to just above the gigantic shining mass before him. "Engorgio." And so on he used many chunks of mithril and then used magic to bind them together and was left with a landmass made purely of mithril that was roughly 150 feet high and 200 feet in diameter, covering nearly a third of the eyot.

"Your turn to shine, guys," said Harry. He conjured a miniature pyramid-shaped structure. "I want you to do the best you can and shape the mithril into this shape. You will need to refine the ore as well and let it set and make it as shiny as you can. I think we can three main sections, with ten floors in each section. The one at the bottom will have one massive hall with a ceiling at 30 feet and no walls in between. I will work with you on the next floor to make a common hallway and a number of smaller rooms and you will replicate it for the rest. There should be stairways as well and pillars for support where needed, and leave one big pillar in the middle going all the way up to the top." He smiled at the imps. "Don't worry about messing it up. I can fix it, or if not, then there's plenty more mithril to begin anew. How long do you think you will need to do the outside and the ground floor?"

The imps conferred amongst themselves. "Two whole days, if we work without sleeping," said Dasher.

"Five days, then," said Harry. "We start at sunrise and stop at nightfall, with adequate breaks in between. But that's not all." He added more to the shape before him, creating a second upper layer on the pyramid. "After this is done, we will work on the upper layer and then a third layer and so on until we reach the top of the pyramid which will be a single chamber with the slanting walls joining each other." He had an image of a pyramid that soared up with the top chamber made of purified mithril. "By your estimate, we should finish this well within two months. Let's get started."

Harry observed the imps for a few minutes, to see they had the hang of it. They worked quite efficiently, using their magic to smoothen the surface and cut it into a slanting angle, creating doors and carving the mithril hollow. He worked with them at first to get the angles right and the thickness of the walls, but when he was confident with their ability to do things without his supervision, he started focusing on other things. With the excess mithril that the imps were carving out of the interior, Harry built four bridges on the river: north east, north west, south west and south east, in the shape of a row of submerged turtles standing front to back. The idea behind it was he could animate the turtles to move away to close access to Tar Avalon. He had thought of making the isle unplottable but what would be the point of having a centre of healing no one could find? So, he had to stick to more traditional defences. The fact that the tower was made of mithril was in itself a tremendous defensive boost, since most conventional weapons were useless against mithril once it was set. Intent-based wards, barriers to enter the island from anywhere but the bridges, mithril statues of centaurs in the grounds with bows drawn, enchanted to animate when the wards where triggered… Harry didn't stop until it was already sundown.

"That's enough for today, guys," Harry summoned the imps. "Let's have some dinner. I'll catch us some fish."

The imps observed as Harry used a spear to catch fish from the river. After half an hour or so, he had finally caught enough for them, which he brought to the group proudly.

"Friend Harry, your magic is powerful," said one imp curiously. "Why do you not simply summon the fish out of the water?"

"Where would be the fun in doing that?" asked Harry. "Magic is awesome but sometimes doing things the hard way has its own rewards. I would save my magic to do difficult things like building this tower and protecting it instead of things like fishing, which is more fun the ordinary way."

While the imps ate and relaxed, Harry walked inside the tower. He coughed when he breathed in ore-dust and started clearing up the place. The imps had done well. The inside of the ground floor was hollow, making one gigantic hall supported by pillars. There was a stairway at one end and a central pillar. Harry walked to the pillar and started carving runes, which he would repeat on each level. The idea behind this was to create the first elevator in Middle Earth. The magic required was complex in theory but it wasn't difficult to cast, nothing as complex as the summoning ritual he had done earlier that day. In any case, he wouldn't even have considered it were it not for the fact that the entire structure was made of mithril.

Mithril could act as a magical focus like phoenix feather or dragon heartstring, and so Harry could enchant the tower with considerable ease since he only had to carve runes on the walls and the mithril would power the magic. That was why he had chosen it as the base material to build the tower. Well, that and the fact it would look more majestic than anything else ever built in Middle Earth.

In less than a weeks' time, the first section was complete. Usually, such a feat would not have been possible, but the imps worked tirelessly and with skill far surpassing anything Harry could have expected. At ten storeys high, the Shining Tower was already quite an imposing construct but Harry was only getting started. The central pillar was carved with runes and on four places around it were a series of numbers representing each floor and when Harry tapped on 2, making it light up, and walked into the pillar, he was spat out of the pillar on the second floor. He tested it worked for each floor properly before going to the terrace. Standing on one edge of the terrace, he started enlarging more mithril.

Frankly, he didn't think they needed anything as big as what he was making, but Elrond had detected in Harry something very astutely. He loved building new and beautiful things and outdoing not only others but himself with each new venture. Part of him knew he would never make anything quite as beautiful as the Galen-Galad, and so, perhaps, he was compensating for that by building something that dwarfed everything else in comparison by sheer size and magnitude.

As the weeks rolled by, the imps started doing more and more of the interior work that Harry had been doing at first, giving Harry the opportunity to make further additions to the tower. The lowest section with the first ten floors would be the place where patients would be treated and the residents of the tower would have their chambers. Each section above that would be devoted to certain kinds of healing arts for those who wished to learn. As one mastered the skills in one section, they would progress to the next and so on until they reached the pinnacle of healing and only those people authorised would be able to access those floors. The very top of the tower was a single chamber with walls that met at a single point and was made of crystal clear mithril purified by the philosopher's stone. It was as if that entire chamber was made of shining glass that was stronger than any metal. Harry made that place his personal refuge, where he could conduct his experiments, write books and generally relax. He kept copies of all his notes from his time in Greenwood, when he had first started mixing new potions using ingredients found in Middle Earth under the Hat's tutelage, then during his years in Fornost and Salazar. He also kept several phials of the Elixir of Life, although the stone itself was safely kept in his enlarged pocket.

Every time he looked at the elixir, he would feel a fresh pang of loss for Elya. At first, he had considered never making the stone after losing Elya and realising he had no right to challenge the rightful order of life and death, but then he realised that the elixir should not be ignored completely. Instead, it should be used sparingly under only the most extenuating of circumstances.

"But what gives me the right to decide who gets to use it and who doesn't?" was the dilemma in his mind when he saw a long procession of figures walking along the Vales of Anduin towards the isle. They held fire-lamps and, with his enhanced vision, Harry could see tell they were elves from Rivendell though their faces were covered in hoods. He walked out of the tower and crossed the north west turtle bridge and waited for them patiently. The shining silver light from the mithril tower illuminated the entire eyot and the nearby river, so he didn't need more light.

"Welcome, lords and ladies of Rivendell," Harry began in a proud voice, "to the Shining Tower of Tor Avalon."

"Shining, it is, indeed. Even miles away, its splendour can be seen," said Elrond, as he stepped into luminous bridge and embraced Harry. "Though I had never set my eyes on it, I doubt even the ancient elven city of Gondolin had anything quite as wondrous as the Shining Tower built by Galen-Galad."

"Is it wise, though, to build something so noticeable?" asked Erestor. "You might attract unwanted attention from less savoury creatures."

"The tower is defended by magic," said Harry. "You need not worry, Master Elf. No orc or warg shall harm you while you are on Tor Avalon." He looked at the others who had arrived and was surprised. "Looks like half of Rivendell has come here."

"Many desired to see what new astonishing thing you have built, Harry," said Celebrian, as she also stepped forward to give him a hug.

"It is great to see all of you, but I wasn't expecting so many. Give me an hour and I will prepare chambers for everyone."

"We can sleep outside," said Glorfindel. "The night is pleasant and I would rather stay where I can behold the Shining Tower a bit longer."

"So shall I," said Lindir, and his voice was hoarse, as if he was talking with great effort. "Long have I waited to behold something that would inspire me to write a new song and finally… finally I see a silver tower that rises up to the stars and pierces through the veil of darkness as lightning in the dark… how can I not take this opportunity to sit by the fire and stare in yonder direction for a bit longer?"

Most were of like mind as Glorfindel and Lindir and decided to camp another night outside. Harry knew elves, like dwarves, were fascinated by mithril, and so he could see why they would like to spend time in the outside relishing the view of the majestic silver tower. In the end, only Elrond and his family went inside with him.

"Is the turtle bridge safe?" asked Elladan as he and his twin brother also joined him.

"Perfectly," said Harry. As he walked, he snapped his fingers and the mithril turtles which the twins were standing on became animated and started swimming away. He winked at Arwen and silently mouthed, one, two, three, while raising his fingers for the countdown.

Splash.

"Harry!"

"The water is cold!"

"Look at the plus side," Harry said cheerfully. "If you catch a cold, there's a tower of healing where you can get yourselves fixed."

When Elrond looked at him with disapproval, Harry looked sheepishly back and levitated the twins out of the river and dried them with magic. "I have missed you all," he said. He then turned to Arwen as they approached the tower. She had been quieter and more reserved than he had seen her before and even the Galen-Galad was very dim, as if reflecting her mood. "Is there a reason why I am being ignored?"

"Oh, sorry," Arwen walked closer and hugged him stiffly and let go almost immediately. "I had a few things on my mind."

"Let us retreat to my chambers upstairs," he said. "We will watch the dance of the stars from the top of the tower."

Arwen suddenly pulled back. "Mother, I think I shall join the others outside. I will see you in the morning."

Harry watched Arwen leave with disappointment. He certainly hadn't expected her to arrive with Elrond and seeing her had been very pleasant. But he couldn't understand her sudden coolness towards him. He turned to Celebrian. "What's wrong with her?"

"It is my fault," Elrond spoke first. "Arwen and I had a slight disagreement and some heated words were exchanged during the journey. She is not well pleased with me at the moment."

Harry led them to the top. They marvelled at the breathtaking sights that they could see from 300 feet above the Great River Anduin in all directions.

"It is a grand place you have built," said Celebrian. "But will you ever use even half the space?"

"I do not know and I hadn't thought of that," Harry admitted. A faraway look came on his face. "When Lord Elrond first suggested this to me, an image came to my mind and I devoted myself completely into bringing it to reality. Utility and practicality became less important than…"

"Than, what?" asked Elladan curiously.

"My hubris," Harry whispered quietly. His face had paled when he realised he hadn't even once considered what was actually needed for a centre of healing. Once again, he had become ensnared by pride in his own abilities. He had imagined a pyramid that would be counted amongst the most majestic sites in Middle Earth, one of the great wonders of this world, and used his magic to bring it about. The determination with which he had set about building the Shining Tower was not unlike what he had felt when had first embarked on the philosopher's quest. Was the abyss within him evolving - drawing him inside in new ways that were not as easily discernible?

Elrond looked at him with a reflective expression. "Regardless of your motivation, you have built a symbol of hope and courage that will serve as a reminder to the people of Middle Earth that there is still strength in those who stand in the light."

But Harry's mind wasn't completely at ease and when everyone went to sleep, he walked out of the tower and crossed the bridge. He walked among the elves of Rivendell who had all gone to sleep as well. So many of them had arrived to support him, to join his cause, and suddenly he felt very unworthy of them.

Walking away from the elves in order not to disturb them, he went deeper into the vale. At some stage, he realised he was being followed and was somewhat surprised it took him so long to realise it. "How do you manage to reduce the radiance of the Galen-Galad?"

"As we spoke last," said Arwen, joining him. "This is part of me now, more than it is of you. The Secret Fire you poured into it now listens to my wishes and does more than what you said it could do. When I wish to be unseen, it keeps my presence hidden as if by magic. When I wish to be seen, it shines so bright that only the sun can outshine it." She walked closer to him. "You are troubled."

"Nothing that will not pass away by dawn," Harry smiled weakly, unwilling to burden the young elf with his self-absorbed thoughts and feelings. "What about you? I heard you had an argument with Lord Elrond."

"Let us not waste time speaking about unhappy things," said Arwen. "I have missed you." She leaned closer and rested her head against him.

"And I have missed you," said Harry, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the side of her head just above her pointed ears.

"You lie," said Arwen, parting from him suddenly. "If you missed us, you would spend more time in Rivendell instead of always going away to faraway places after only spending a few days with us."

Harry felt a sudden rise of fire within him. He was about to lash out at her and tell her it was her fault he didn't stay in Rivendell too long, that it pained him terribly to have her so close to him and yet out of reach. But before the words could leave his lips, he managed to push them back and far into the recesses of his mind. To his dismay, however, Arwen had sensed something in his eyes, or in his face, or perhaps through the connection they shared from the Galen-Galad. Her face was in a complete shock and she took a step back.

"Arwen," Harry began hesitatingly.

"No, don't," she stopped him. Her eyes widened as if she suddenly realised something. "I understand now. I understand why father insists I return with Erestor to Rivendell and not stay with you."

Harry's eyes widened. "You should not be denied this because of me," he told her calmly. "I can restrain my feelings. I will speak to Lord Elrond and make him see reason."

"How can I stay with the knowledge that my very presence makes you so miserable?" she whispered in a forlorn voice.

Harry grabbed her hands and looked at her intently. "Don't you say that," he told her in a stern voice. When her lips quivered, he softened his expression. "When I look at your face, I see the brilliant light of the cosmos. Nothing could be brighter. Ten thousand suns couldn't be brighter."

Arwen gasped at the intensity of his feelings and tore herself away from him again.

"I understand you do not have similar feelings for me," said Harry. "This is something I must deal with. You are blameless, Arwen, absolutely blameless."

Arwen was staring at the floor for several moments. She raised her head to show her eyes were filled with tears. "I need to be alone."

Harry watched her run away from him in silence and as she left her presence became hidden from him. Why did it have to be so difficult? Part of him yearned for the carefree days when he was younger, but even as he thought that, he knew he wouldn't trade the little time he had spent first with Elya and now Arwen for anything. Despite all the heartache that followed each encounter with this she-elf.

"I am losing it," muttered Harry as he sensed a new presence. "If two elves manage to sneak up on me the same night."

Glorfindel of Rivendell emerged from the shadows. "I heard Lady Arwen wake up and followed her only to ensure her safety. Whatever kept her hidden from your must have also kept me hidden." He sat down next to Harry. "I had no idea, my friend, none of us did."

Harry looked away. "Nothing will happen anyway," he said bitterly. "Lord Elrond would not permit it. You all will sail west one day; I have no right to hope she would stay behind for me."

"Perhaps it is not my place to say this," said Glorfindel, "but a wise man once told me when I was facing the dilemma of leaving the shores of Middle Earth that I should do what is right for me. Lady Arwen should have the same right. Neither you nor Lord Elrond should dictate what is right for her." He took a deep breath. "Middle Earth is once again becoming a place we elves are falling in love with. You have made it so, you still are making it so. Perhaps, when the day comes for the final ship to sail west, Lady Arwen would bid it farewell and choose to stay behind in Middle Earth. Perhaps, others will do so with her."

"You heard her just now," Harry argued. "She has no desire for me, no love other than platonic affection… and even that may now be lost." His heart wrenched in pain again as he said those words.

"I do not know what she feels for you but elves mature slower than humans," said Glorfindel. "She cares deeply for you, of that how can you have any doubt?"

Harry raised his hand to silence him.

"No, my friend," began Glorfindel but Harry cut him.

"Shh," said Harry. "Do you hear that?" His heightened senses were picking up screams in the distance. "Voices… many voices… coming from the south."

"The south?" Glorfindel was surprised. "There is nothing in the south for a hundred miles… until…"

"The east gate of Khazad-Dum but the noise is coming from much closer than that," said Harry. "Something has happened. Something terrible."

"Then, let us investigate," said Glorfindel.

"On my back," said Harry, transforming into a griffin. Glorfindel hesitated for a few moments before climbing on the massive lion. Harry flew southwards, riding the wind currents to gain ever increasing speed. Eventually, many miles south, they came within sight of the disturbance Harry had heard. Dwarves were running north in chagrin and chaos, with fear in their eyes that Harry had never seen before. Many looked injured and their armour was charred, and they were being pursued by wargs, but clearly they weren't afraid of the wargs as they would stop from time to time to kill a few of the beasts before continuing on their way.

Harry roared before landing in front of them. He transformed back when Glorfindel climbed down. Many of the wargs whimpered in fear and retreated back to the mountains while the dwarves stopped and gathered around him.

"Gabilion!" one dwarf shouted. "It's Gabilion."

Harry focused his attention of that dwarf. "What happened? What are you running from?"

"Aii," another dwarf screamed. "Evil, evil beyond any mortal's ability to resist or defy."

Harry looked around. "Hemel son of Jamel, I know you. Tell me what has happened."

"We dug deeper and deeper without rest," said the dwarf. "We broke our promise to you and bred the nifflers until there were over a thousand of them, and despite your warnings, we made half of them work all day and the rest all night. But no matter how much mithril we uncovered, there was always more to find and we wouldn't rest… we couldn't rest… until we dug so deep… we reached the pits of hell."

Harry exchanged a glance with Glorfindel.

"We came across the beast two nights ago. It was still in slumber. At first, we thought we could fight it," said the dwarf. "But when our warriors awakened it from its sleep, it shattered through our ranks and destroyed the glorious halls of our forefathers. We sought to fight it but it could not be killed with any of our weapons. Then, earlier today the wargs and orcs answered its summons and filled our halls through passages beneath the mountain."

"And suddenly, King Durin emerged from his chambers, with his youth and vigour restored, as if by the grace of the One. He himself locked the western gate, to keep our allies in Salazar safe and ordered us to abandon our homes and flee east to our outpost in Erebor, the Lonely Mountain. Then, he wore the Ravenclaw and challenged the beast, leading it deep into the mines, buying us precious time to escape."

"What beast was it?" Harry asked.

"Fire and shadow," the dwarf said in a terrified whisper. "Fire and shadow."

Harry took a deep breath as his face turned pale. He recalled a memory from his past. The mirror of Galadriel. A hideous beast that had terrified even the basilisk within him. "Balrog," Harry whispered and Glorfindel's grim expression suggested he too thought the same.

Another dwarf wailed suddenly. "Our first father's body lies in the mines, broken and defiled, without the proper rituals. Alas, Durin shall never reincarnate again."

Harry felt angry suddenly. "Why was he alone? Why did he not have his people by his side?" he snarled at the thought of his old friend the King of the Dwarves facing the demon alone. "I never thought I would see the day when the dwarves of Khazad-Dum would run like cowards before a foe."

The dwarf took no offence. Instead, he had a resigned look on his face. "It was no foe that we faced," he said. "We faced hell itself. Our king chose sacrifice so we may live."

Harry took a deep breath to focus his thought. "If I bring back Durin's body, will he reincarnate again?"

"It was foretold our first father would reincarnate until the end of time if his body is burnt in a forge made of mithril, before he returns forever at Aule's side," said the dwarf. "Thrice has that happened thus far, but I fear… I fear the shadow shall claim his corpse and he shall never manifest in Middle Earth again."

"Not if I can help it," said Harry.

Glorfindel turned to him sharply. "Are you certain? This is no ordinary foe. It is of the Ainur, master of fire, shadow and magic. Even Sauron the Terrible would not have fared with ease against one. Let the balrog lie in the shadows."

"Would you have me abandon my friend?" Harry snapped at Glorfindel, which silenced him. He turned to the dwarf. "Follow the Great River, lead your people north. Many miles ahead, you will come upon the Shining Tower of Avalon. Find Lord Elrond - tell him that he is its master in my absence; seek refuge in the name of Harry of Rivendell. There, your people will find healing and sanctuary."

Hemel pulled his arm. "Do not go down there, Gabilion," he whispered in terror. "I beg you. You will not come back alive."

"I am not easy to kill," said Harry, trying to summon what courage he could. The vision he had seen in the mirror of Galadriel once again came to mind. His confidence wavered.

"But not impossible," Glorfindel reminded him. "You do not possess the hallowed weapons of old which could hurt a balrog."

"Perhaps, not," said Harry, once again ruing the loss of the Sorting Hat and the Sword of Gryffindor. "But you know what, my friend, I have a wizard's magic and I also have an elf's pride and a dwarf's stubbornness." He laughed. The decision was easy. "I shall not abandon Durin." He clasped Glorfindel's arm in farewell. "Will you lead the dwarves to Avalon?"

Glorfindel's face turned serious. "Nay, they need no assistance in locating the shining tower. I will come with you."

Harry's face turned pale. "No," he snapped. "I forbid it."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Would you have _me_ abandon _my_ friend?" He threw Harry's words back at him.

Harry looked at him desperately. But then he tried a different approach. He snarled, "You will only be a hindrance to me, elf. I cannot fight the beast and keep you safe at the same time. Go where you can actually do something useful."

"Galen-Galad!" Glorfindel raged, his voice turned deeper and angrier than Harry had ever heard before. "I have faced darkness the likes of which you couldn't even imagine. I have fought the hosts of Angband and Thangorodrim. I have faced dragons and wraiths to hold back the onslaught of the Dark Lord Morgoth. How dare you question my courage and valour?"

Harry looked at him regretfully. "I did not mean to insult you, O Lord of the Noldor. I only wish you wouldn't throw away your life away when there is no need to."

Glorfindel's eyes softened. "Then, why do you throw away your life?"

Harry turned aside. He wanted to say he was doing it to save Durin's body, but he knew that would only be a half-truth. Was it hubris again? The need to fight against a mighty balrog and come out victorious. No, it wasn't that. It was something completely different.

"I am tired," said Harry.

"You don't mean that," said Glorfindel in shock. "You, more than anyone else I know, are so full of life and dreams."

Harry looked at him bitterly. "Everything I touch gets cursed, everything I do is doomed to fail. I am cursed to live an unhappy life."

Glorfindel frowned. "Do not forget the great things of beauty that your hands have wrought: the Gates of Union, hippogriffs, abraxan, Fornost, Redeemer's Woods, Salazar, the Shining Tower, and most of all, the Galen-Galad." When Harry's eyes dimmed at the mention of the final item, Glorfindel realised. "Your eyes sing the lament of a broken heart and a doomed love. You think life has little meaning without the love of the one who has your heart and so you throw yourself at the darkness."

"I am a fool, is that not what you truly think?" Harry muttered.

"A fool, aye, but also a friend, and I suppose, in the end, that is all that matters," sighed Glorfindel. "Well, then, I am to be Felagund to your Beren. If this is to be our end, then let us make it worthy of song." He took out his sword and raised it towards the running dwarves. He shouted: "Dwarves! When you reach Avalon, seek one called Lindir of Rivendell and tell him of Galen-Galad and Glorfindel, a man and an elf, who went to fight the beast from hell and bring the king of dwarves back to life." He turned to Harry. "If this doesn't inspire Lindir to write a new song, then nothing will."

"To death, then," Harry said, grimly.

"To death and friendship," replied Glorfindel.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed. I love reading them - every review (positive or negative) makes it more likely that I will continue on to my next project after this one.

To those who like my story, thank you so much. I am highly flattered and think you guys are brilliant.

To those who have picked big errors in my story - thank you (Joe Lawyer / jfcwtfusernames for the Sword of Gryffindor being used to draw blood in the duel in Chapter 3 - now fixed such that Harry can control the basilisk venom in the sword!)

To those who didn't like my story because the plot wasn't going the way they wanted - many of you have great ideas! Honestly! But when I write (usually over a glass/bottle of wine), I just like to get lost in the universe and let the story take its own direction. My original story plot was completely different to where we are now. But I quite like the changes - because of the journey I went through to get there.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

As Harry walked into the mines, he lamented the fall of the great kingdom of the dwarves. The twilight halls were destroyed. The ground was littered with corpses and the walls were sprayed in crimson. There was a dark aura of fire and shadow. He raised his hand and several orcs were flung backwards to the wall of the cave and their skulls crushed at the impact. The hallowed halls of the dwarves had completely changed; orcs were everywhere and they had already within a day claimed it as theirs. Part of him felt responsible for gifting them the nifflers - but then he pushed away that thought. He had warned them. Glorfindel had warned them. Many others had warned them. But the dwarves chose not to listen to anyone - they were a determined lot and they would have gotten there on their own - if not now then a few years later.

"Moria, I name thee," Glorfindel uttered, sending three swift arrows to kill the orcs Harry's magic hadn't picked. "The black chasm of death."

Harry nodded, before deflecting the arrows being showered at them back at the orc archers. The abyss resonated within him for now he was truly descending into it. "I can feel it," he said in a low whisper. "It has sensed my magic." He took a deep breath. "I have never felt anything so dark… so powerful." In fact, the only times he had felt a presence more powerful was when Namo and Nienna had been before him.

Harry wasn't the only one who felt the darkness. Even the orcs wavered, and when an orc's shriek came from deep below the mines, the rest of them abandoned their places and ran away in a stampede.

Suddenly, Harry chuckled as they walked through an arched passageway.

"What is so funny?"

"This is not the first time I have descended into the mouth of hell to face an impossible beast with a faithful friend by my side to save another friend," he said. "And you know what: the last time, I was awesome."

"Did your faithful friend survive that last encounter?"

"Yes," said Harry, slowly.

"That is indeed heartening," said Glorfindel, with a sigh of relief.

Harry stepped out of the passageway into the hall. "He survived because he never made it to the beast. He was trapped behind." Harry snapped his fingers and the ceiling between him and Glorfindel collapsed. The cave-in was instantaneous and he could hear Glorfindel's shouts. He looked regretfully at the blocked exit and waited for Glorfindel to stop shouting at him. "I know your valour, my old friend, and I do not mean to insult you. I fear there is only death beyond… with my magic, I can try and find Durin's body and send it up here by the time you clear a path. After that, please take him back to Avalon for the proper rituals. That way - something good may come out of my madness." There was nothing but silence from the other side but Harry could hear Glorfindel's breathing with his heightened hearing. "You have been the best of friends to me, Lord Glorfindel. If you can find it in your heart to do so, please forgive me for this."

He turned around and walked without saying another word. He raised a hand to create a floating sphere of light and cast a tracking charm on it. He wasn't sure the magic would work on a corpse, but it would certainly work on an artefact enchanted by him. "Lead me to the Ravenclaws," he said, praying silently that Durin's corpse still had the gauntlet on it.

He ventured down into the mines behind the floating sphere, which remained always about twenty paced in front of him. The further he went he saw corpses of dwarves and orcs that had been flung across the halls. Slowly and cautiously, he stepped into the great hall of his old friend and felt a dark presence lurking behind one of the passageways. This was it. There was no turning back now.

"I stand alone," he shouted, lacing his voice with magic and power. "Come out, you coward!"

Slowly, fire illuminated from one of the passages and Harry invoked the Flame Freezing Charm, but it was unlike any fire he had seen before. There was something blackening about it, something that obscured even as it burnt bright. And within the fire, Harry saw it. The basilisk whimpered within him as the hideous face of the balrog emerged into the hall. It rose in size, 20 feet tall, eyes red, and a mane of reddish gold flames for hair. Harry raised a hand to send a spell, but to his shock, the balrog snapped a whip of fire which hit the arching spell sent by Harry, disintegrating it halfway between them. The dark fire could counter magic. Harry shuddered as he realised that the best advantage he had was meaningless.

Two dark wings, shadowy and menacing, rose behind the balrog and it charged at Harry in great speed. With swift reflexes, Harry darted to a side passage where the orb of light had gone, using his superhuman speed to avoid the balrog. It was a near miss and the beast followed after him very swiftly, and Harry realised it could match his heightened speed. That would make finding Durin's body more difficult. He rushed through the passage into the next hall and raised his hand to cause another cave-in over the balrog.

The balrog's whip snapped through the stones ripping a hole for it to emerge, while raising his head in fury to let out an unholy shriek. It flung its whip towards Harry, who conjured a powerful shield to stop it. The shield held for barely a moment before being ripped apart by the dark fire, but that moment was enough for Harry to move to safety again, after a quick scan around the hall to find Durin.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry yelled sending the fearsome green light of the Killing Curse. The light hit the beast and nothing happened. "Crucio!" The red light arched at the balrog who snapped it with his whip. The balrog raised his hand and sent a fast-moving jet of fire at him. Harry waved his hand and debris flew between him and the fire. Even the unblockable spells were unable to hurt the balrog. He had to think of something else, something different, or else the balrog would kill him long before he could find what he was looking for.

With a determined growl, Harry transformed into a griffin and flew towards the balrog, seeking to rip it apart with his great claws. The balrog flayed Harry with his fire-whip. Although the fire didn't hurt him, Harry felt a searing coldness cross through him and his spirit was crushed by feelings of misery and melancholy that nearly overwhelmed his senses. Before Harry could smash against it, the beast raised its great arms and caught Harry from the air and threw him across the hall, smashing pillars and walls as he crashed down a corridor.

The balrog followed him, but Harry had figured something out. Feelings of misery and melancholy. There was a way to fight that. Perhaps, just perhaps, it could work. "Expecto Patronum!" Harry called out, but to his shock, nothing happened. He took a deep breath and focused. He needed a happy memory. He thought of Elya's shrine and the graceful presence of Lady Nienna as she embraced and forgave him for his plunge into darkness. "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted as the balrog's fire came through the corridor, somehow lighting and darkening it at the same time. He was disappointed; only a little wisp of silvery light sprang out of his hand and then vanished.

"Focus!" he yelled at himself and thought of the day Elrond had found him and taken him home as his ward. "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted and, the force of the effort made his knees buckle, and once again only a wisp came out and fizzled away. The balrog walked slowly without exerting itself, as if it saw no need to rush.

Harry lowered his head. He had run out of options. The balrog could counter his magic, his strength, his speed and his Animagus form. There was nothing he could do to stop the beast. But then he raised his head defiantly. Failure was not an option. Ideally, he would have liked to defeat the beast but he couldn't lose sight of his true mission - to save Durin the Deathless.

Harry sent an explosion curse at the ceiling above the balrog and once again, it was buried in rubble. And once again, its whip hissed through the mound of stone and with one strike, the beast was nearly free. But that brief moment had given Harry precious time to rush out of the hall and think of a new strategy.

What magic could defeat such darkness?

In the Chamber of Secrets, he had been lucky. Fawkes the phoenix and the Sword of Gryffindor had been sufficient to defeat the basilisk but what divine intervention would come to his aid this time? None, he decided, now it was just him and the beast. Besides, he wasn't seeking victory, his only aim was to find Durin's corpse and send it up to Glorfindel.

Harry animated the stone statues made by the dwarves, sending them to fight the balrog. Again, all this achieved was delay just a bit longer the progress of the balrog towards him, like a predator stalking a prey he knows is cornered, as it smashed the animated statues down without any effort.

And then Harry came upon it, the Bridge of Khazad Dum at the foot of the Dimrill Stairs. He knew this bridge well. It was 50 feet long and stood over a deep abyss. It was meant to serve as a defence against any enemy who got through the east gate and took the First Hall and the outer passages, and it was in the middle of the bridge that the orb vanished. Harry frowned, he couldn't see any bodies there, but he rushed on to the bridge even as the balrog came into view. With a horrified expression, Harry realised why he hadn't seen or been able to summon Durin's body. The Ravenclaws were there, grabbing a sword, over a pile of ash. The king of dwarves had been burnt alive by the balrog.

And then, he heard a sound. A low rumbling sound he couldn't understand at first and then it grew louder and louder and he realised it. The balrog was laughing, mocking him.

"Nay," said Harry out loud. "You shall not stop me." He raised both hands and cast a summoning charm, "Accio mithril". Perhaps, there was still hope, and finally, he felt for the first time since he entered Moria that fortune smiled at him as mithril came flying towards him from all directions. Durin's body could not be taken to Avalon to be cremated on a mithril hearth, for there was naught left of it but ashes, but he could give what was left of it one here in Khazad Dum - or Moria - as Glorfindel named it. It was the final desperate thing he could think of doing, and fortune was on his side, for Moria was the one place there was no shortage of mithril.

"I commend to you, O Great Lord Aule, of Aman, my friend Durin the Deathless - the Fourth of his Births," said Harry, as he moved the ashes on the makeshift mithril hearse. "I commit his body on this mithril hearth. As dust we begin and end, and therefore, this dust is still very much Durin. By the grace of Eru, may this world once again be graced by the majesty of King Durin the Fifth the king of dwarves." He snapped his fingers and a great big fire was lit, and to Harry's great surprise, there was a great burst of magical energy from the hearth, which knocked him back several feet.

"It worked," he muttered, feeling a wave of exhaustion from the shockwave. He could feel the approach of the balrog. It screamed in fury and hate, for Harry had defied him and reclaimed his prey. It had sought to be Durin's Bane, the slayer of the Deathless, but now Harry had undone all of that. Harry took a deep breath as the balrog approached him on the bridge, only a few feet away, looking down with an air of condescension, as if it felt no need to exert itself in this fight, Harry lowered his head and closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. The balrog's screech also brought hundreds of orcs back into the cave - as much as they feared being in the balrog's presence, they feared even more defying its summons.

Harry deflated as he felt arrows coming towards him. He could use his magic to save himself from orcs - he could easily destroy all of them - but that would distract him to the point that he would no longer be able to deal with the balrog's onslaught. And that was the balrog's intent. It had tired of the cat and mouse game and wanted to end things swiftly now.

Harry raised a shield as the balrog's fire whip slashed at him and this time his shield gave way immediate. If he tried, he could perhaps delay the inevitable for a bit longer. But to what purpose? Durin was saved, his purpose was fulfilled. But he was not ready to simply die. He could still make a difference. He knew what he had to do. Harry knelt and touched the ground beneath him. The moment he felt the balrog ready to strike, Harry would destroy the bridge, sending the balrog deep below into the endless chasm so Glorfindel would not have to face it. That was the only way he could save his friends from the beast, for if it ever got out of the east gate, none of his friends would ever be safe again. Not even Lothlorien would be able to evade the balrog. And if it went north… Arwen… His heart clenched at the thought of the beast even coming close to Arwen. No, this was the only way, he had to sacrifice himself and take the beast down with him. And strangely, he suddenly felt peaceful at that thought. He had faced the abyss and the only thing he had been concerned about was friendship and love.

But then he heard something else. Or rather someone.

"You will not hurt him, beast of darkness."

Harry felt his heart constrict on hearing the voice from behind him. He opened his eyes and saw her walk past him. Arwen stood as a shield between him and the balrog while Glorfindel was by his side and grabbed him by the shoulder to lift him up. To his amazement, in Glorfindel's free hand was the Sword of Gryffindor - he seemed to have fought his way through the orc hordes to get Arwen safely to Harry. How had the sword come to the elf? But Harry's mind didn't dwell on that as his eyes turned to Arwen and he looked without blinking as she raised her hand, the Galen-Galad was shining brighter than ever before. A green sphere of rippling fire grew out of it and became so big that it completely enveloped Arwen. The beast struck the sphere with his whip but the magic of the Secret Fire was stronger. However, the strain of holding so much power was too much and Arwen's knees buckled. The balrog struck at the sphere again, and then again, and Harry could see Arwen's strength receding rapidly.

The Galen Galad could counter the balrog but Arwen was not strong enough to wield its power for too long.

Harry's face paled at the thought of Arwen at the mercy of the beast. "No," he cried out, feeling fire rise within him. Phoenix fire. Magic alone wasn't sufficient to destroy the balrog; he needed more, he needed true power. He needed to wield the Secret Fire he had wielded only twice before.

The balrog screamed with fury in a deep guttural voice that resonated all through Khazad-Dum. He drew himself to full size, shadow rising above him as wings of hell, and he struck one mighty blow. The green sphere which protected Arwen vanished and the elf turned to Harry with a look of fear on her face. But as she saw him, her expression changed, fear turned into wonder. For Harry was floating in mid-air, green flames covering his entire being just as it had Arwen moments ago, except Harry didn't need any artefact to conjure the flames. He held that power in his soul. And his whole visage looked more than human. The balrog might be an Ainu but at that time Harry was no less than one.

"I wield the Secret Fire which existed before the Great Music began and shall exist long after it is over," Harry said, as he floated towards Arwen. "The Flame Imperishable shall not be extinguished by your dark fire, slave of Morgoth."

The beast shrieked and raised its whip. The dark fire of the balrog was almost upon him but Harry didn't waver. He didn't think to defend. There was no need. He simply listened, to the cracking noise of the flames, to the sound of wind and felt it within him. Like he had once before - in the realm of Tom Bombadil. There was no past, there was no future. There was only this one moment. He took a deep breath and focused solely on one thing. One name, one person, one face. For this one moment.

While he stood mere feet away from the balrog, his mind was steadfast on one single face. And she did not turn away from him this time. The balrog's whip was coming down on them but Harry cared not and he knelt next to Arwen and wrapped his arms around her protectively. She moved closer into his embrace and buried her head against his chest.

The dark flames of the balrog engulfed them, but neither could feel it. It did not affect them. How could it? Harry's body was already in flames which now spread over Arwen. Pure, beautiful, green protective fire covered them both. And then with a surge, the green flames lashed out. The balrog was thrown back several feet.

As the balrog steadied itself, it threw a baleful look of hate, confusion and a hint of fear at Harry. But Harry couldn't see any of that. His mind was blinded by the light that was Arwen and also his love for Arwen.

He smiled when Arwen looked up at him with wide eyes. Cirdan has said to him: _You will overcome the dark because of your love for the brilliant light._ And now he knew exactly what he had to do. He turned to the balrog, which had steadied itself again. "Expecto Patronum," he said, raising both hands, thinking of nothing but Arwen. From his left hand, a great basilisk made of green and silver flames flew out and coiled around the balrog, extinguishing the dark flames and keeping it secured in its spot. Meanwhile, from his right hand, a green and gold phoenix soared upwards and it sang. Or rather, Harry could hear music, but the balrog shrieked in pain and fear as the phoenix focused itself on the balrog and flew towards it. The moment the phoenix collided against it, there was a blinding explosion.

Harry wrapped his arms around Arwen before the explosion, shielding her. The green flames on his body rose once again, growing in size to create a sphere that was big enough to protect Arwen from the explosion.

"Harry!" Glorfindel's voice came through. He had been kept back by the flames, and he gasped at the sight before him. The balrog lay dead at his friend's feet but Harry was covered in flames, holding Arwen in his arms, both holding each other so tightly one wondered if they would ever let go of the other. "You slew the balrog." He caught the look in Harry's face. "What's happening? Your body is on fire."

"I cannot control it," said Harry, and he sounded like he was speaking with great effort. "It's happening already. It's…" he grunted. "Phoenix fire. It's sending me away."

"Where?" asked Glorfindel.

"I don't know. Somewhere… far beyond," was Harry's answer.

"Take me with you," Arwen begged.

"I would if I knew how," said Harry sincerely, as the pressure built up. "You can see into my heart. You know I speak the truth."

"Then, promise you will come back to me," she said.

"Always," Harry promised. "Now, go. My chamber at the top of the Shining Tower will open to you, sweet Arwen. Go, become the great healer this world needs."

"I love you," she whispered. "I was slow to realise it but i do."

Harry opened his mouth, but Arwen walked into his arms and pressed her lips against his. As the fire grew, once again, Harry reluctantly parted from her. "I will find a way to control this. I will come back to you. Tell… dwarves… it is done… Durin will come back." He cried out as he struggled against the flames. "Listen to me, both of you. I will be back, and you better not have sailed west or I'll –"

Harry vanished in a flash of phoenix fire.

* * *

Glorfindel observed from an elevated vantage position on a hill. "Who would have ever thought?" he mused to himself when he saw the combined camp of elves and dwarves. "The twins have done well," he said out loud. "All of elvendom comes together to stand beside you, your majesty."

King Farin, descendant of King Durin IV and father of Durin V, future king of the dwarves, stood by Glorfindel's side. Elladan had come from the south east, a few hours' march away. He led many hundreds of archers from Lothlorien. Elrohir had already arrived with several scores of hippogriff-riders from Greenwood. Erestor commanded the elves of Rivendell and was camped west of the Misty Mountains. The main attack, however, was going to be from the east until the dwarves managed to unlock the western gate. But the reinforcements coming in at that stage would be useful to press home their advantage against the orcs who had settled in Khazad Dum after the balrog had been slayed.

"This will never be forgotten," said the king of the dwarves. "We will need many lifetimes to repay this debt to you."

"It is my honour to fight besides dwarves to reclaim Khazad-Dum," said Glorfindel, surprising even himself with his true feelings on the matter. "Our people have not enjoyed the greatest history of friendship; only brief moments of alliance have shone between long periods of strife and enmity. Today, I seek to rewrite that, in memory of our mutual friend."

"Then, let this be the start of a golden age. Once Khazad-Dum is retaken, you have my word, Lord Elf, that Durin's Folk shall no longer live in isolation, amassing wealth that no one but our select friends get to behold. We will come out to our neighbours and help them in whichever manner we can, like your kin, today, has come to our help without cause or hope for compensation."

"To a golden age, then," said Glorfindel. He was distracted when a hippogriff landed next to him. "What news from the west, Legolas? Have your hippogriff-scouts any news?"

"Tauriel brings news from the west. A friendly army even greater than what we have here stands outside the Western Gate," said Legolas.

"How can that be?" asked Farin in surprise. "No dwarves fled west and our cousins from the mining colony of Erebor are still several days away."

"Your have other allies who come to your aid," said Legolas. "The Free City of Salazar has sent every warrior they had and they camp together with those elves who had stayed behind in Rivendell."

"I am surprised to hear that they outnumber the force we have here," said Glorfindel, with an honest curiousity. "What are you not telling us, Legolas?"

"Salazar does not stand alone," said Legolas. "Prince James of Arnor has come to the aid of the free city. He leads an army of seven thousand men. They await our signal and the opening of the Western Gate."

"Then, there is hope for victory," Farin said breathlessly.

Glorfindel drew the Sword of Gryffindor. It had come to him in his moment of utmost need when all he wanted to do was aid Harry. His complete loyalty to his friend had reached out to the magic of the sword and brought it to his side with which he had destroyed the barrier that Harry had created. That had allowed him to defend Arwen as they went in search of Harry. "We fight in the name of Galen-Galad," said Glorfindel simply. "There is always hope for victory."

"Aye," said Farin, seizing his battle-axe. "Then let us roar like lions and see our enemy flee before us."

* * *

Eldacar climbed down from his horse. He had come alone, in disguise as Laefin the out-of-luck merchant. He had been disappointed when he realised the Little Horse tavern had been shut. He was almost tempted to buy it himself and run it for a year or two in disguise. James was taking over affairs of the kingdom from his hands with every passing day, and he couldn't blame the boy. The people loved him, his council respected him, and he himself had to admit James was a better ruler than he had ever been. Just like his parents, he thought, with gut-wrenching feelings of misery.

Ever since his ill-advised attack of Salazar, his people lost faith in him. They had never considered him a strong leader but they had always considered him a good man - one with a noble heart. That attack had lost him that respect. But also because he had lost the Abraxans, which had fast become a symbol of great pride for the people of Arnor. The fall of Numenor had been a great stain in their honour and the fact that they were now a people who flew the skies on great winged-horses was, to them, the beginning of their redemption. But he had lost that. Nobody cared to remember that Harry's presence in Arnor was his doing in the first place. They only remembered the ill he had done, not the good. But could he blame them?

Eldacar had been blinded by hate and anger, and now it was too late for him to make amends. His grandson hadn't even bothered seeking permission from him before taking a great army to defend the western borders of their kingdom. And what was shocking was that not a single advisor or courtier had seen fit to tell him. Gone were the days of intrigue where the smallest servant would have revealed great secrets to curry favour with the weakest lord. Now, they were all prince's men, loyal to James alone, and could he blame them? The prince had in him the best of both his parents. He promised them a golden age, and the people believed he could deliver it, for he was the son of sweet Elya and mighty Harald.

He sighed. Mystical figures were dancing before him. One beckoned him to join her. Under any other circumstances, he would have been captivated by the beauty and mysticism and gladly gone to her side, but his heart was heavy with remorse and guilt. There was no space for anything else. He smiled sadly at them and shook his head regretfully, before turning away from their entrancing dance.

"Forgive me, old friend," said Eldacar, as he walked. "I know you loved her and would not have allowed her to come to harm if it were in your power. I blamed you openly to escape the fact that, truly, it was my weakness and ineptitude that allowed our enemies to dare strike against the line of the king." He lowered his eyes.

He wasn't completely sure why he had decided to listen to the elven lord's suggestion that he take a walk in the Trollshaws. Sure, he had heard tales from the common folk while he stayed in Bree about fairies and other magical creatures who had freed the woods from the trolls and turned it into an enchanted forest. But when the elf mentioned Harry had made a shrine in Elya's honour, how could he not visit?

He was ready to abdicate. The kingdom didn't need him anymore. The people of Salazar never forgave him for threatening to destroy them when all they wished was to rebuild their lives after being savaged by orcs in the north. They saw him as a warmonger and a tyrant, and when the rest of Arnor embraced Salazar with open arms, that view of him became prevalent in other parts of the realm as well. History would not remember him as the man instrumental in building Fornost. No, Harry's words came true. He would forever be remembered as a tyrant.

"But all of that is worth nothing," he muttered. "James is his father's son and will be a far better king than I have been, or my father before me, and that's all that matters. All I seek now is pardon for my sins and salvation for my weary soul."

"You must be joking."

Eldacar's heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be. She was dead.

But then, through the mist, a figure emerged. A very familiar figure. His eyes couldn't be deceiving him, could they? She looked as beautiful as the day she married Harry, and in fact, she was wearing the same dress. But then he saw the look on her face; hate and contempt.

"He was my husband!" she yelled at him. "My everything."

"I am sorry," he said softly, feeling his eyes dampen. "I wasn't thinking right."

"You deprived my son the right to know his father!" she continued.

"I know," he whispered. "I hate myself for it. If I could turn back time…"

"You would do the same all over again," she spat. "That's who you are. A self-absorbed man and a pathetic king." She looked away. "If you had been a better man or a stronger king, I would not have suffered."

"Please stop," he begged her. "Please don't say these words out loud which I have been running away from for so long."

"It is you who should be dead, not me, not Harry."

Suddenly, his eyes blazed with fire. "No, you are not my sweet Elya. You are some enchantress who seeks to blacken the memory of my dear child. No matter what evils I did, she would never wish me dead. Never. She was much too pure of heart than this vile imitation. Leave me alone."

"Alone, yes," laughed Elya's replica. "You are indeed alone, now and forever."

"So be it," said Eldacar, wretchedly. "The elf lord said I'd find peace here, but if I am judged unworthy of it, then I accept this curse. Your words have no more impact on me."

Even as he said those words, the form of Elya vanished before his eyes and the mist from which she had emerged parted, making an opening, and, he could see a green light. But that wasn't all. Many Abraxans were grazing around the green light and when they saw him, they neighed in greeting, as if they had been expecting him for some time.

Like a butterfly attracted to a flower, he found his body moving towards the light.

* * *

Elrond sat at the top of the Shining Tower. In his hand was a collection of potion recipes written by Harry but his attention was on Arwen. For hours, his daughter had done naught but brew. She spoke little these days, she no longer wore the Galen-Galad and would tell no one, not even Elrond, where it was hidden. He was deeply concerned.

Once again, Elrond regretted not having interceded more vehemently when he first realised the growing sparks of attraction between Harry and Arwen. It was most certainly not a one-sided thing, although only Elrond and Celebrian could sense Arwen's inner feelings. They knew Arwen was still very young, by elvish standards, and would take much longer than a human to understand and come to terms with the true nature of her feelings, but Elrond hadn't acted, out of selfishness, that perhaps, if left untended, the fledgling romance would die and he would not be faced with the painful prospect of being parted from his daughter in the future. But that had been ill-advised. Perhaps, if he had acted, then he might still be sitting here with Harry, and Arwen would not have lost the spark of life from eyes.

"Your scrutiny is distracting me, father," she said without looking at him, even as she continued to stir the cauldron.

"I apologise." Elrond lowered his head and forced himself to read the words before him. Truly, he was astonished by how Harry's magic had grown over time. He certainly had discussed with Harry about healing potions, but a lot of wondrous things that were possible in Harry's old home were impossible in Middle Earth for lack of essential ingredients. For instance, where were they going to obtain newts or fwoopers or other strange creatures… but if he could believe what he was reading, Harry had been alchemising for decades, since the very first time he was in Greenwood, and came up with similar, if not identical potions, using only ingredients found on Middle Earth.

"A potion to renew broken bones in minutes," Elrond read. "A blood-replenishing draught for severe blood loss." He frowned. "These will be the most useful potions for those injured in the battle."

Arwen continued brewing in silence.

Elrond sighed and walked to her. He placed his arms on her shoulders. "Rest awhile, Arwen," he said. "You haven't slept all night."

"I can't," she said in an emotional voice. "Gildor said the orcs used poisoned arrows and we have only a few hours to save those who were struck. My first attempt at brewing the cure was a failure. I have to do this."

"Your hands are not steady from lack of sleep," said Elrond. "If you truly care about this potion being brewed properly, you will let me finish this. You can start at something new when you have rested."

Arwen hesitated before nodding. She left the stirrer and stood up. She was about to leave but then she turned around and flung her arms around her father in distress as her eyes started watering.

"Oh, my dear child," Elrond felt his heart wrench at his daughter's suffering.

"My grief is irrational, father," she said tearfully. "I know he is alive, I can feel his spirit, so why does my heart cry so, in sorrow and agony?"

"When you love someone so much, even the briefest moment of separation can be an eternity of despair," said Elrond.

"How does one know it is love?" she asked. "How can I be certain?"

"Only you can answer that question," said Elrond. "Trust your heart. Trust your instincts."

"When I felt his anguish at my leaving him, I could think of nothing else but to run to his side and hug him until he smiled again. I tried to convince myself that I didn't feel that but I couldn't - I had to go back to him."

"I did not realise he means so much to you."

Arwen looked at him with sincerity. "He gave me a piece of my soul that I never knew was missing."

"Then, that is truly love," said Elrond, and as she walked away from him to get some rest, he realised when the day came for him to sail west, his daughter would not be with him. With a deep sigh, he set about finishing the potion she had started. With luck, he would just be able to salvage it.

He started in surprise when an imp appeared before him. He still wasn't entirely used to them, but they most certainly made things a lot more convenient and efficient. "Yes, Comet?"

"Friend Gildor says the injured dwarves are ready for their next dose of Calming Draught, Friend Elrond," said the imp.

Elrond's lips twitched. "Are they throwing a tantrum again, then? No matter." He held out a large flask. "Take this to Friend Gildor and ask him to ration three drops to each and make sure no dwarf touches the flask. The last time we allowed a dwarf to handle it, it was laced with liquor, changing the potion into a hallucinogen." After the imp disappeared, he started a second fire to start brewing more Calming Draught. Their supplies were running thin and with so many elves, dwarves and humans being treated in the Shining Tower after the Battle for Khazad-Dum, they would need more. A lot more.

"Come back, Harry," he whispered to no one in particular. "For all of us, but mostly, for her."

* * *

Prince James stared at the pyramid in wonder and awe, and once again pride surged within him for his father. He had come together with Brandin of Salazar to behold the great work of Harry that the elves couldn't stop singing praises about and where injured had been taken.

An elf walked towards them and James waved at him. "Lord Elladan," he greeted his uncle.

"Your highness," the elf came to his side. "Two more. This will indeed be the first council of its kind."

"Wait," James was confused. "What do you mean? What council?"

"Many have arrived from all over Middle Earth to the Shining Tower of Avalon," said Elladan. "Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn from Lothlorien, King Farin and his nephews from Khazad Dum, King Thranduil and Prince Legolas from the Woodland Realm and even Lord Cirdan has arrived from the Grey Havens with several dwarves from Clan Longbeard. My father believes such a great gathering has not happened by chance, that a greater power moves us so. All we were lacking were the leaders of men."

"And here we are," said James.

"Aye," said Elladan. "Come, I will show you to your chambers. There is a great feast tonight and the council begins at dawn."

That night, James and Brandin were sandwiched between elves and dwarves. King Farin had challenged James, to see if he could hold his liquor as well as his father. Merely three dwarven meads and James was already struggling.

"There is something in this mead that makes it more potent than it should be." James turned towards the elves. "I shall be sticking to this excellent wine from now."

"Ha! The great lion could drink more when he was but a child!" one of the dwarves added fire to the challenge.

"The great lion's shoes are too big for any man to step into, even his son," said James.

The next morning, everyone was seated in a circle outside the Shining Tower in the island. Lord Elrond sat at the head.

"Friends and kin," he began. "You have all come here to behold the wonder that is the Shining Tower of Avalon, but I believe you have not been gathered here for just that purpose alone. Look around you: never before has there been such great gathering of elves, dwarves and men for a peaceful purpose and not for war against a common enemy. I believe a great change is dawning upon Middle Earth, that a new era is about to begin, a golden age, one where all the free peoples of Middle Earth shall come together in harmony and friendship to build a new world."

"Aye," said Farin. "A golden age, and Durin's Folk will carry their weight and repay elves and men for their blood sacrifice in the Battle for Khazad-Dum." He looked at Elrond. "I can see your people take delight in gazing upon the Shining Tower. By your leave, Lord Elrond, I will have my men build a great settlement between the river and the mountains for your people. One that would rival Imradris itself."

"No," said Elrond, thoughtfully. "Not for elves alone. We are closer together than we have ever been before; why should we not press on this advantage and forge an even stronger friendship? If you would, O King of Khazad-Dum, build a sanctuary for elves, dwarves, men and all other peoples of this land who would seek to live in peace and harmony with us."

Cirdan clapped his hands once in delight. "What a great undertaking!" he exclaimed. "Mayhaps, I shall stop building ships and send my men to assist your folk, King Farin, and truly make this a settlement for all."

"It would be our honour to work besides your people," said Farin.

"I shall lend all the strength and power I have to prepare defences," said Galadriel. "While not as powerful as Harry's, my magic should keep it safe from orcs and wargs."

James spoke out. "Men shall also assist in the building and defence of this great city. What we lack in magic, we will make up with hard-work and numbers."

"So be it," said King Thranduil. "If it is indeed time for all free peoples to come together, the Woodland Realm shall not lag behind." A half-smile crept in through his indifferent mask. "And you, Prince James of Arnor, shall take with you a wagon full of wine from the Woodland Realm. I saw how much you relished it last night and your father always stacked up his enchanted sack with it when he visited."

"Much appreciated and accepted with gratitude," said James. "Although, there shan't be any need for wagons. I am, after all, my father's son and shall make do with a sack as well."

"Then, it is decided," said Elrond. "A settlement shall be built within sight of the Shining Tower, between the Great River and the Misty Mountains, where all the free peoples of Middle Earth shall be welcome to dwell in peace."

"What shall we name it?" asked Legolas, sitting next to his father.

There was a brief silence as many thought of names. Many suggestions were made but none were acceptable to all. Finally, Glorfindel finally made his first contribution at the council "Ringalad," he said, and everyone turned to him. "Meaning, the light's return, to honour this union brought about by the defeat of a creature of darkness." In a quieter voice, he added, "Or, to some, as to me, to remind ourselves that the one who is responsible for this great union has not left us forever, that he will return one day."

"Ringalad," Elrond tried it out. "Yes, it has a certain ring to it."

"It's elvish," Farin grumbled, but then he grinned. "But as elvish names go, it is a mighty fine one."

* * *

Harry grimaced. His head felt like all of Khazad Dum had fallen on it, but then his heart started pounding. Arwen had come back to him. She had kissed him. Instantly, Harry focused. He clenched his fists and tried to summon the phoenix fire. He had to go back to her. But nothing happened. He tried again. And then again. And finally when his nose started bleeding from the strain he was putting himself on, he gave up. This wasn't something he could control, not yet, but he would learn.

That was when he started looking around to observe where he was. Everything was so different. Even the air smelled and tasted different. Not in a good or a bad way, just different. But there was also something familiar about the place. Very eerily familiar.

He walked around, observing the landscape. There were snow-covered mountains in the north. Not even half as imposing as the Misty Mountains but nonetheless they painted a magnificent picture. Finally, he came upon the village. Little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees. There was something about the village that felt familiar, as if from a fleeting memory long ago.

Suddenly, he gasped when he saw the name of the town on the signpost. "Hogsmeade," he repeated. Hogsmeade station was where the Hogwarts Express stopped. Could it be that he was back in his home world?

He wasn't quite sure what he felt about that. So many years had passed since he had left earth that he no longer had any connection with it. Besides, what was his old life back here? Abusive relatives, life and death encounters, insane dark lords. He shook his head. There was happiness and fun aspects as well, which he shouldn't forget. The Weasleys, Hermione, Quidditch, Hagrid, Fawkes, Dumbledore.

"Finally," he smiled. "I can learn how to make a flying broom." He frowned. "Or perhaps, something more comfortable, like a flying carpet."

He walked into the village and looked at the shops. Most were closed as it was evening, so he walked into the Hog's Head Inn. It was, after all, the shadier of the pubs in the village and would not turn away someone who looked as out of place in his long elvish robes as Harry. But when he walked in, he saw a familiar face that brought a smile to his face.

"Professor McGonagall," he noted, surprised to see her in a shabby old pub. She turned to him in surprise and a frown, as if she was trying to recognise him. Harry wasn't concerned about that. Although he still looked like someone in his early-20s, his shoulder-length hair and beard would cover any similarities to the 12 year old boy she would have remembered.

"Are you here to interview for the Defence professor job as well?" she asked. "I thought I was done for the day…" She looked at him intently, aware of the commanding aura he projected, the phoenix and the basilisk within him. "But it doesn't hurt… who knows you might actually be competent?"

Harry was about to correct her that he wasn't there for the job but then he paused. Fortune, it appeared, was suddenly smiling down on him. Hogwarts was perhaps the one place where he could learn more about phoenixes; if not in the great library, then from Fawkes the phoenix. Moreover, he had nowhere else to go.

"Yes," he answered. "My theory is a bit rusty, and I was intending to read up before the start of the school year, but do feel free to test me practically. My name is Harry Galad, by the way."

"Stupefy," she had her wand out in a flash and a red beam of magical flew towards Harry. She gasped when Harry simply raised a hand and conjured a shield to block her spell. "You can do wandless magic?"

Harry grimaced. He had forgotten how rare that ability was in this world. "A result of a magical accidental when I was a child," he answered truthfully.

She gave him an impressed look. "That was a promising start," she said. "What is the most advanced defensive spell you can cast?"

Harry frowned thoughtfully. What could he tell her that would raise too many questions and yet get him the job? It had to be something light, something powerful, something impressive. "Not counting wards, the Patronus Charm," he mentioned and took a deep breath as he recalled the balrog. He realised he had gone very still and ignoring McGonagall. "Apologies, can you repeat that? I was caught up with some old memories."

She looked at him curiously. "The Patronus Charm is indeed a very powerful and rare magic that few have been able to master. I doubt even majority of the Aurors can do it. If you can prove your ability to cast it, the job is yours."

Harry smiled as he recalled Arwen's kiss. He sighed blissfully. "Expecto Patronum," he said, expecting the basilisk and the phoenix. But to his surprise, an owl appeared instead. A very familiar owl. "Arwen," he stared at the owl in wonder. The owl looked at him curiously and then flew above his head in a manner very similar to how Arwen used to do, and he knew then that, even though she wasn't actually there with him, she could sense him. The Patronus Charm was a connection between them through the dark corridors between universes.

"You look very surprised," McGonagall noted.

"My form has changed," said Harry. "It used to be something else. Now, it is the animal form of someone very dear to me."

"There is one school of thought that one's Patronus is never truly fixed and varies depending on the needs of the summoner," said McGonagall.

Harry nodded his head slowly. Having access to the library would indeed be very useful. Perhaps, he mused, he could recreate the Sorting Hat also - that would be nice.

She smiled at him. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Galad."


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**The Crown of Salazar**_  
by Sir Brandin of Salazar_

Glorious Salazar - land without king  
Remember your past  
Free Salazar - folk of serpent's sting  
Remember my last

Three heads of the serpent divine  
Three tribes unified in time  
Long, our journey from lands afar  
Now we live in Free Salazar

Glorious Salazar - land without throne  
May your future shine bright  
Free Salazar - let it forever be known  
The secret behind your might

Guided by elves - the eldar most wise  
Built by dwarves - our nearest allies  
But one man above all - our guiding star  
I speak, of course, of Harry of Salazar

Glorious Salazar - land without crown  
Be true; no matter what fate may bring  
Remember, even when I'm dust in the ground  
Of Harry - our once and future king.

* * *

**The Roaring Lion **  
_by King Farin of Khazad-Dum_

He came from afar; beyond our reality  
Bringing gifts; worthy of a dwarven king  
Killed wargs; saved dwarves; always to victory  
Oh, Gabilion, Great Lion, with mighty wings

Craftsman; magician; warrior; singer  
He played with mithril; made it brighter still  
With magic; in his voice and in his fingers  
Oh, Gabilion, Great Lion, with a mithril will

He drank our mead; he told us tales  
We jumped up in joy; we roared in glee  
Dwarves and elves and man - many a tale regaled  
Oh, Gabilion, Great Lion, Dwarf-Friend for all eternity

We were lost; banished from our twilight hall  
He faced hell; saved dwarves; once again to victory  
In his name - we honour - and come beyond our walls  
Oh, Gabilion, Great Lion, how we miss thee

* * *

**A Peculiar Lament  
**_by Arwen Evenstar_

The sea that once intrigued me - it does not anymore  
The songs that once inspired me - I no longer recall  
The stars that once enthralled me - I look at them no more  
The light that once exalted me - it answers not my call

The trees that once delighted me - they look so very old  
The birds that once befriended me - they look at me appalled  
The sun that once absorbed me - it feels now very cold  
The light that once exalted me - it answers not my call

The wind that once caressed me - it leaves me all alone  
The hills that once impressed me - they may as well all fall  
The love that once eluded me - I wish my heart I'd known  
The light that once exalted me - it answers not my call

The light that once exalted me - it answers not my call  
The light that once exalted me - He answers not my call.

* * *

**How Galen-Galad Saved Durin the Deathless  
**_by Lindir of Rivendell_

Listen now, all ye folks, to the tale I have today  
A man like no other - I called him my friend  
Alas, now, I must write a song of his end  
But lose not hope - I tell my heart  
Miracles, after all, are a wizard's art  
Listen now, to this tale, I have to say

Galen-Galad - a child he was, when arrived in Imladris fair  
In the House of Elrond and Celebrian  
Who saw a bright flame inside him burn  
Friend he became to dwarf and elf  
And friends he put ever before himself  
As he walked into the Balrog's lair

Glorfindel - true of heart - who crossed the grinding ice in yore  
He would not abandon his friend Galen-Galad  
No hope, no hallowed weapons, no plan in hand  
The twain made their way into the pits of hell  
Where to save his friend - the wizard cast a spell  
And went alone to face the beast of lore

Durin the Deathless - his body burnt and spirit ready to depart  
Tarried a moment, for he heard the great lion's roar  
As man faced monster in a mine of mithril ore  
Fire and shadow; and magic and might  
Oh - it must have been quite a sight  
Now Durin lives again by the wizard's art

Arwen Undomiel - who shines brighter than starlight  
Rushed in - wielding fire of magic-forged  
With Glorfindel - to whom appeared a wizard's sword  
No orc or troll could withstand the twain  
And she aroused the Balrog's bane  
For her, Galen-Galad vanquished the night

But now this tale - alas - must come to a rest  
A pause - mind you - and not an end  
As the next verse is not yet penned  
While others may take to despair  
I warn my heart - don't you dare  
For we are yet to see Galen-Galad at his best.

* * *

**Author's Note: ** Galen-Galad will return.


End file.
